


Split

by acxrns



Series: Blacked Out [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A Lot of Internal Monologue Seriously, A Lot of Passing Out Too, Angels, Angst, Character Death, Demons, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Birthed This, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internal Monologue, It Was Very Painful, Multi, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Phobias, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short Chapters, Sort-of Demonic Possession, Soulsharing, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, To Be Edited, Very Determined Teenagers, Violence, War, Weird Plot Shit, What Are Normal Names, What Have I Done, When Is There Not Angst Honestly, this is a shitshow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-07 23:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 101
Words: 37,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10372284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acxrns/pseuds/acxrns
Summary: Persephone Hartright is not a normal girl.She's been stuck in a mental hospital since she was 6, surrounded by people who don't care about her well-being and think - no, know - that she's a murderer. They've kept her from interacting with the other kids at the mental institute, isolating her for 9 years of her life.But one day, everything changes...





	1. |Prologue|

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lydia [without whom this never would've been completed and would still be as much of a mess as I am]](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lydia+%5Bwithout+whom+this+never+would%27ve+been+completed+and+would+still+be+as+much+of+a+mess+as+I+am%5D).



I have DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder).

Or, at least, that’s what the doctors say.

They also say that I have the world’s most severe case yet of chiraptophobia, the fear of being touched.

They put me in a mental hospital. Or, at least, that’s what I call it.

It’s not quite what it really is, though. I think.

They put me in a hospital (there’s no other word for it) for people with irrational, uncontrollable fears. Or, as they say, people like me.

Not that I mind. Actually, I don’t, really. I got to meet people who understand me. People who get it, you know, the whole irrational fear thing.

After all, there’s a reason for everything. And they get that.

I have a reason for fearing the touch of others.

I am a murderer.

Well, a part of me is. You know; DID and all.

But I honestly don’t think that it’s DID. It might sound crazy, but I don’t.

Do people with DID black out when one of their alternate personalities comes out?

Okay, maybe they do.

But when they “wake up”, do they find puddles of blood and dead bodies, with evidence pointing right at you?

Didn’t think so.


	2. |1|

I remember when I first came here. It wasn’t long after my fear became uncontrollable. I remember thinking that they work fast. Now I don’t think so.

I remember their first words to me.

“We’re here to help you.”

That’s what the lady had said.

Not two weeks later, I blacked out, and when I woke up, I found her dead.

I don’t even remember her name. I only know that her words did not assure me. Not in the least.

They gave me a notebook.

I don’t know what they expected me to do with it.

Just because they took me in, doesn’t mean I’m ready to spill all of my secrets onto a piece of paper, just so that they can read it.

Instead, I kept track of time, and wrote down phobias.

I have been in this hellhole for 3334 days.

I have written down close to 530 phobias.

They calm me down.

Acrophobia, the fear of heights. Arachnophobia, the fear of spiders. Chiraptophobia, the fear of being touched. Ophidiophobia, the fear of snakes.

I have had 3334 days to memorize phobias and the walls of my jail cell.

Or, at least, that’s what I call it. That’s what it feels like.

On one of the walls is a faint spatter of red. A bloodstain.

On the wall that what they call a ‘bed’ is up against, there are scratch marks. Well, not quite scratch marks. There are lines, cut into the cold metal walls.

I made those marks. There are exactly 3334.

I made them with the pocket knife I stole from one of the men. From one of the Jailers. No; from one of the Jailers I killed.

Well, the me that isn’t me killed.

A Jailer told me that she calls herself Lilith.

My name is not Lilith. My name is Persephone Hartright.

I have been here for 3334 days.

I don’t know how many of those days Lilith killed.


	3. |2|

They only ever let me out of here for me to go to my fear simulation.

They put me in a room and try to get me to face my fear.

Of course, it’s all a simulation; none of it’s real.

Has it worked?

Well…

Let’s just say that I’m still here.

Apart from that, I stay in here. They bring me my meals. They bring me a metal tub and some soap to wash myself. They bring me a bucket to shit in.

I’m stuck in a jail cell of metal with nothing but a whole bunch of optimistic airheads who want me to shit when they tell me to.

At least I have my lines. At least I have my pocket knife.

At least I have my phobias.

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia, the fear of long words. It’s also known as sesquipedalophobia. Allegrophobia, the fear of being late. Belonephobia, the fear of sharp objects.

Phobophobia, the fear of phobias.

Sometimes I wonder if the creator of this goddamn shithole of a jailhouse was a phobophobe. Maybe they had this huge fear of phobias and set out to get rid of them all.

If so, screw them. I hope they went to hell. Because if this is what they think ‘help’ is, then I think they could use some ‘help’.

I would personally like to hunt them down and stick them in this jail cell for nine years and see how they like it. See how they like eating nothing but what looks like slop, shitting on command in a bucket, washing in a tub while being watched by someone to make sure you don't make a run for it. Let’s see how they like having a notebook and a pocket knife and a pen for friends.

I don’t want to kill them, whoever they are. No, I’m not Lilith.

I want to make them pay.


	4. |3|

I once asked them if I was the only one here.

They said no.

They seemed amused by my question. Delighted, even.

I asked them how many others were stuck in this shithole.

Though they didn’t seem to appreciate my choice of words, they answered me anyway.

There are 18 of us, counting me.

An equal number of boys and girls, the youngest ones being of age 14 and the oldest ones being 18.

There are 8 other girls, and 9 boys.

And I have a feeling they’ve made sure that I don’t run into them on my way to the simulation room.

Sometimes I wonder if they’re all stuck in a cell like me. Sometimes I wonder how long they’ve been here.

And sometimes, I wonder if it was all a lie and I’m all alone, and they thought I was asking how many Jailers there are.

Yeah. Maybe that’s it.

Nobody deserves a fate like this.

They treat me like a dog. A mistreated dog, at that.

They command me to do everything, and they expect me to do it all right then and there, in front of their eyes, as if I’m some kind of twisted circus act that they paid to see.

Wash. Eat. Shit. Eat again. Go to the Simulation Room. Eat. Sleep.

Well, you know what?

I have a little command for you.

Go to hell.


	5. |4|

Now it’s been 3338 days.

I’ve asked them for more phobias but they have no more.

Lately, it’s been the same girl who’s been my Jailer.

She started Jailing me a few days ago. When I’d only been here for 3331 days.

She is the most optimistic and airheaded one yet. High-pitched voice, constant smile, annoying giggle and all.

The nametag on her janitor's jumpsuit says Jennifer Macmillan.

I don’t think it’ll be long before Lilith decides to come out and play with her.

That isn’t a good thing.

Because when Lilith comes out to play, only one person walks away.

And that person is always Lilith.

If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.

3338 days.


	6. |5|

Jennifer came in today at seven o’ clock sharp to wake me up, like usual. Her bubbly, cheerful voice was so sweet it made me want to throw up. Everything about her is cheerful; her hair is a cheerful, sunny blonde, her makeup is a cheerful, bright pink, and her eyes are a cheerful, happy blue. The only thing about her that isn’t cheerful is her uniform janitor-jumpsuit. Her nametag even has a freaking sticker on it.

As for me?

Black hair, cold green eyes, grubby clothes, pale skin, smells like shit.

She smells like freaking sunshine and rainbows.

“Time to wake up, sleepy head!”

Ugh, she is so freaking peppy I could slap her and she would not lose any of her peppiness. I swear, she probably shits butterflies. I think I’m going to have nightmares about her. She would lead an army of optimistic, cheerful, cotton-candy pink unicorns against me and my army of pessimism and angst. With a freaking smile on her face.

After her overly peppy wake-up call, she skipped out of the room. And I am not exaggerating. She freaking skipped. And she was humming. I swear, I expected freaking woodland animals to start gathering around her as if she were freaking Snow White.

She came back an hour and a half later with a tray of unidentifiable slop and a glass of lukewarm water. 

“Come on now! Sit!” she sings, placing the tray on the floor at her feet and gesturing for me to sit down in front of it.

I eye the tray. The slop is still as unidentifiable as ever. I glare at Jennifer, but slide off the bed anyway. This is the only thing they give us to eat; I’ll take what I can get.

I sit cross-legged in front of the tray and pick up the chipped plastic spoon.

“What is it this time? Rat brains? Oh, no. I know. Unicorn shit! Makes sense, what with the Queen of Disgusting Optimism,” I grumble to myself, smiling grimly as I scoop up the first spoonful of unicorn shit.

“What was that?” she asks, smiling patronizingly at me.

“I was talking to god damn Phil. Shut up; he’s talking to me,” I answer sarcastically, summoning all of my courage and swallowing the spoonful of unicorn shit.

She stares at me for a second, obviously confused. But of course, she doesn’t let that damper on her peppiness.

“Who’s Phil?”

I shoot her an _are-you-stupid_ look. “He’s my freaking fire-breathing flying rabid turtle. Watch out; he can be a real asshole sometimes. Oh, and did I mention he’s rabid?”

“Oh! That’s… interesting!”

Seriously! What does it take to be rid of the optimism?!

“Yeah, it’s very interesting! Did you know that flying rabid turtles only eat decapitated butterflies and living beings’ optimism? You’re his first healthy meal in years!”

She just stares at me. It takes her about point two seconds to perk up again.

“Well, every cloud has a silver lining!”

“Yeah, but lightning kills hundreds every year who are trying to find it!”

She shuts up after that. Maybe I really did it this time. I sure as hell hope so.

And then she has to rain on my parade just as I’m downing the last of my gourmet unicorn shit.

“So, do you like it?”

I almost spit the rest of the slop on her.

I glance at the empty space beyond the tray and pretend to see something there.

“Hey, Phil, how would you like eating watery slop that looks like unicorn shit for nine years?”

Jennifer doesn’t miss a beat.

“It’s very healthy. It’s got all of the vitamins that you need.”

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of stuff that looks more edible than this that does, too.”

If only I hadn’t eaten the damn shit so quickly. I have just found a much better use for it; shoving it in Jennifer’s face. Oh well. I guess I’ll have to wait ‘til lunch.

“Are you done?”

I glare at her.

“Are you blind? What does it look like? What, did you think I was gonna freaking lick the god damn plate clean?!”

She doesn’t answer, just bends down and picks up the tray. When she leans down, I catch a whiff of her perfume; the smell is so strong I almost sneeze. I flinch away from her; she’s close enough to touch. She pauses, halfway bent over, her face just above mine.

And I black out.

Looks like Lilith has decided to come out to play.


	7. |6|

I don’t know how long I’ve been awake. I haven’t bothered to check my watch. Actually, I haven’t bothered to even open my eyes. I know what I’ll find.

Death. Destruction. And blood. Lots of it.

Lilith has struck again.

I have a feeling Jennifer is the victim this time.

I mean, sure she was overly optimistic and all, but she didn’t deserve to die. She just needed a wake-up call. A big one. She could have used a huge downpour on that parade of hers.

But did she deserve death?

No.

Of course, Lilith doesn’t seem to give a shit.

I’ve decided to open my eyes now.

I might as well face what I’ve done.

I hesitantly open my eyes, and shut them immediately. I take a deep breath, hoping silently that I hadn’t seen what I really saw, and open them again.

I saw correctly.

I am sitting in a room that isn’t mine, crouched in the corner. Not two feet away from me is Jennifer’s dead body, surrounded by a pool of blood that laps at my feet. Her blue eyes are open, her mouth gaping wide in a silent scream of horror. Her janitor’s jumpsuit has gone from rain blue to dusk purple with blood.

The sticker from her nametag floats in a sea of red.

I bring my knees up, leaning my head against them and clutching at the fabric of my dirty jeans as I try to control my gasping breaths. My heartbeat pounds in my head and in my chest and echoes around the room, and if Jennifer was alive I’m sure she would’ve been able to hear it.

I force myself to focus on phobias, like I always do when this happens.

Aerophobia, the fear of flying, agoraphobia, the fear of open spaces, claustrophobia, the fear of closed in spaces, electrophobia, the fear of electricity, ergophobia, the fear of work…

But it’s not enough. My heartbeat still staggers and my breathing is still ragged and uneven.

I start muttering them out loud. Somehow, the syllables echoing around the room help calm me.

“Hydrophobia, the fear of water, homophobia, the fear of homosexuality, frigophobia, the fear of cold, monophobia, the fear of being alone…”

And I’m calm, I’m calm, I’m calm…

Now to call the police.

I slowly stagger to my feet, trying very hard to ignore the sloshing sound it makes as I step towards Jennifer’s corpse. Bending down carefully, I fish around in her pockets for a cell phone. When I find one, big surprise, it’s covered in stickers and fluorescent pink, and has only a small spatter of blood. I quickly dial 911, set the phone on the floor, far away from the growing puddle of blood, and make my way over to the door, leaning on the wall for support.

I reach for the doorknob, only to notice the bloody pocket knife that I clutch in my bloodied hand.

Actually, now that I mention it, I realize that I’m covered in blood.

Lilith sure likes her kills messy.

With shaking hands, I close the pocket knife and slip it into my pocket. I jerk my hand towards the handle, but at that moment the door bursts open and a man stumbles inside, his eyes wide and worried.

He rights himself, brushes some invisible dust off his pants, and takes in the scene. His expression unreadable, he makes a signal to the other man waiting outside the door. Jail-Man 2 steps into the room, clutching a gun in his hands.

A gun.

I gawk at the weapon, even when he shoots me a _what-the-hell_ look.

The two Jailers whisper quietly, their heads bent together. I just awkwardly stand there, mentally debating whether or not I should make a sarcastic comment when a third Jailer walks in and makes a beeline for Jennifer’s corpse.

Jail-Man 1 joins her in inspecting the corpse, and Jail-Man 2 walks over to where I’d left the phone, picks it up, and starts talking to the person on the other end of the line as if he didn't just pick the god damn phone up off the floor and has been here this whole time.

Jail-Woman looks up from the crime scene, and finally seems to notice me standing there, soaked in blood.

“Audrey!” she calls.

Another Jail-Woman bursts into the room. Jail-Woman 1 gestures to Jail-Woman 2 (Audrey?) and the two talk in hushed voices, Jail-Woman 1 constantly gesturing to me. Finally, the two break away, and Possibly-Audrey makes her way towards me and makes a move to grab me by the arm.

I make a hissing noise, baring my teeth at her for some odd reason, one of my hands slipping into my pocket as I flinch away from her.

What am I, a freaking cat all of a sudden?

Audrey? scowls at me, as if disappointed in my behavior, and gestures for me to exit the room. With one last glare, I walk out, trying unsuccessfully to appear calm and unruffled.

And then I freeze altogether.

Because outside, in the hallway, all crowded together like a bunch of penguins, are other kids.


	8. |7|

For I have no idea how long, we just stand there and gawk at each other.

I don’t know what to make of them. They’re definitely the kids I’ve heard about; they look just as bad as I probably do.

They probably don’t know what to make of me, either. After all, I’m covered from head to toe in somebody else’s blood. 

Man, do I know how to make a first impression.

The first one to break the silence, big surprise, is one of them. An older boy with wild dark brown hair and brown eyes steps forward, almost protectively.

“Who are you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I snap, crossing my arms.

He raises an eyebrow. “The name’s Kaleb, Kaleb Shamon.” He nods at me. “And you are…?”

I stare him straight in the eye. “Persephone Hartright.”

His eyes widen. The group behind him, which had been silent until now, breaks out in surprised whispers, many of which include my name.

I snort. “Didn’t know I was fucking famous,” I mutter sarcastically.

Kaleb smirks. “I guess you could say that.”

A dark-skinned girl with long dark brown hair and startling blue eyes walks over to me. She stops a few feet away from me, cocks her head, as if considering me, and extends her hand towards me.

“The name’s Horatia Osset, but you can call me Tia, ‘cause my name’s a real mouthful. I have a feeling we’re gonna get along just great,” she says, smiling at me.

My eyes widen. I shoot a look at her outstretched hand, and when she urges it closer, I flinch away, taking a step back. When I look back up at her face, her gaze is questioning, her eyebrows raised.

“I… I…”

God damn it, Persephone! A few seconds ago, you were on a roll, and then someone offers to be your friend and you chicken out.

I offer her a smile, but something tells me it doesn’t look all that convincing. “I… Err… Don’t… Shake hands.”

Her expression settles into one of amusement. “Oh, I see. A germaphobe.” She withdraws her hand.

My eyes narrow. “The correct term is mysophobe, and no. Not even close.” I gaze down at my filthy apparel and laugh humorlessly.

She laughs quietly. When I look up to meet her eyes, I’m shocked to find them shining with something that looks suspiciously like happiness.

“Oh, yeah. We’re gonna get along just fine.”


	9. |8|

Audrey? chooses that moment exactly to interrupt our glorious moment.

“I see you’ve met.”

“No fucking shit, Sherlock,” I snap, glaring at her.

Yes, I was pissed off. She completely ruined the moment. Not that I haven’t done that before, but still. Come on, man. That was special.

Audrey (I glanced at her nametag; this is really her name) doesn’t appear to have a reaction. Instead, she turns to the huddle of penguin-kids.

“I know you must all be wondering why you never met Persephone here. The answer is quite simple, and dreadfully obvious, as she is literally covered in it; Ms. Hartright is dangerous. We kept her from you for your own safety.”

Horatia takes a step back, seeming to sense the incoming explosion from me.

“Well, _excuse me_ for not being born a freaking perfect baby! _Excuse me_ for having DID and an evil personality who enjoys murdering overly optimistic people! But I will have you know, _I can’t control it_! Believe me, if I could, I would! So I am goddamn _sorry_ for being fucking born this way! I am goddamn _sorry_ for having a personality who just happens to be the world’s largest asshole! I am goddamn _sorry_ for being born!” I scream.

If I wasn’t so god damn terrified of slapping her, I would’ve done it.

“Asshole!” I finish, clenching my fists and turning to walk away.

“You know I’ve always hated that about you ‘caretakers’.”  
I freeze in place, shocked.

“You always think that it’s our fault. You always seem to think that we’re all some sort of abomination of nature, that we’re unnatural, just because we are scared of something. And we have good reason, you know!” Tia, who seems to be on a rampage, growls.

I turn around slowly. Sure enough, Tia has taken my place and is facing off against Audrey, who keeps getting paler by the second.

“You know me. I know you do. I’ve heard you talk about our files. So you know that I am terrified of being late because I was beaten for it. Every single minute that I was late was literally a punch in the face, most of the time more. So you know what? Go to fuckin' hell.”

And she walks towards me, stopping next to me.

“What’s your room number?” she asks me, as if she didn’t just tell everyone that she was abused and she didn’t just make the world’s most amazing point.

“Err… I have no idea.” Feeling ridiculous, I stare down at my feet and shift my weight uncomfortably.

She raises her eyebrows. 

“They really didn’t let you out much, did they?”

I sigh, chuckling softly to myself.

“Not at all, actually. The only time they did was to bring me to the Simulation Room,” I admit.

“Well then, it looks like I’ve gotta give you a tour of this shithole. I think I know where your room is anyway; they never let us go around there.”

I stare at her incredulously.

“Why?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer.

“Like the lady said; apparently, you’re dangerous.”


	10. |9|

I haven’t seen Tia or Kaleb or any of the other penguin-kids since.

They sent me a change of clothes, assigned me a new Jailer, and everything went straight back to normal.

Even though Normal is starting to feel even more dull than usual.

Now, it’s been 3342 days.

The new Jailer’s name is Michael Bentham. He is just as calm and neutral as Jennifer was optimistic and bubbly. It’s annoying, really; I can’t get a single reaction out of him. It doesn’t matter what I do. I even bit him once, and he just calmly removed my teeth from his arm and wrapped his wound, and then he left without another word.

Today, like has been usual for the past four days, I’m lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Tia and Kaleb and the penguin-kids and wondering what they’re doing.

And then I hear the make-your-ears-bleed sound of the door opening. I don’t even turn my head, knowing that it’s Michael.

“What the hell do you want? It’s not dinner time yet. Leave me alone; I don’t want any of your monotone-ness right now,” I groan.

I hear a laugh. Michael doesn’t laugh. I freeze, feeling like I’ve just been caught red-handed.

“Mike told us we’d find you here.”

My head snaps in the direction of the sound.

I stare wide-eyed as Tia steps into the room, followed by a hoard of penguin-kids.

The only sound I seem capable of making is “eh”. I am truly the more eloquent speaker in the history of eloquent speakers.

I sit up, somehow finally capable of sounding out more than one syllable. “What are you guys doing here? And who of the freaking hell is Mike?”

Tia raises an eyebrow.

“Michael? Your caretaker? We forced our caretakers to let us see you.”

I stare at her blankly.

“Why would you guys do that? Don’t you know…” I trail off, flinching at the memory of the sticker floating in the blood…

She stares at me for a second, then exchanges a glance with a guy with short dirty blonde hair.

“Yeah, we know what you are.” She looks back at me. “You’re Lilith, and you’re also you. You’re the one who killed Jen, and Chrissie, and Tyler, and Katie, and Ben, and…”

“I think that’s enough,” the dirty blonde dude cuts her off, shooting her a _you’re-freaking-her-out_ look.

I force an uneasy laugh. “You know, this is kinda unfair. You guys all know who I am, and I have no idea who the hell you are.”

Dirty Blonde Dude smiles at me. “I’m Cato. Cato Wilkinson.”

I smile wryly in return. “Well, you already know who I am.”

His grin widens. “Yes, yes I do.”


	11. |10|

For the rest of the day, I’m stuck trying to memorize names.

To help me, I wrote everything down in my notebook:

_Alistair Macklin, phasmophobe. Age 15. White-blond hair, milky blue eyes. He is not blind, despite his looks. Edith Hardesty, pogonophobe. Age 14. Black braided hair. She is afraid of beards because she was abused by a dude with a huge beard. Elanor Montgomery, gephyrophobe. Age 14. Rust-colored hair. She does not appreciate people picking on other people. Nevada Barsad, frigophobe. Age 16. Very long straight black hair. Good luck getting a whole conversation out of her. Devin Hampton, hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobe. Age 14. Ratty brown hair. Do not use words that are longer than ten letters around him. Ever. Kaspar Day, catoptrophobe. Age 17. Black hair with dyed blonde streaks. Whatever you do, keep him away from reflective objects. Bridget Cunningham, heliophobe. Age 15. Wispy blonde hair, ties it up in a ponytail. Possibly a vampire. Sterling Blackmore, oikophobe. Age 17. Onyx-black hair. Do not invite him into kitchens. Willow Coldbridge, hylophobe. Age 16. Long, bark-brown hair. Her name is probably the most ironic thing ever. Andrew Curtin, decidophobe. Age 18. Sandy blonde hair. Do not ask him if he wants pepperoni or all-dressed pizza, he will probably just die. Laurel Ballham, descendophobe. Age 17. Short dark brown hair. She will definitely buy a one-floor house when she’s older. Tyrell Hexter, chronophobe. Age 18. Very short black hair. Do not celebrate his birthday. Althea Doolittle, panphobe. Age 15. Curly auburn hair. I’m surprised she even came. Dash Rowland, sitophobe. Age 16. Bright red hair. I wonder how the hell he eats._

Don’t ask me how the hell I’m going to remember all that. The only thing I seem to be able to remember is that there’s a dude named Dash, a girl who’s terrified of beards and a guy whose last name is the opposite of night.

Oh, God, I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself in to.


	12. |11|

I’m sitting on my bed, my notebook cradled in my lap, trying unsuccessfully to memorize the names of all of the penguin-kids when Mike (I have decided to use this nickname against him) comes in with my dinner.

The first thing I notice is the smell.

It smells like fucking rainbows and happiness.

My head snaps up from my notebook, and I toss it aside. I stare straight at the tray, which now no longer houses unicorn shit, but instead has a bowl of soup.

Real soup.

And get this; next to it wasn’t a glass of water; no, this time, it was a glass of milk. As in, cow-milk-goodness-that-I’ve-so-missed.

And I’m suddenly ravenous.

I spring up from the bed, for some reason calling out “COW!” for no fucking reason as I dash over to Mike with an eagerness that I haven't felt in 3342 days.

The Jailer is just as surprised as I am, if not more. He looks like I’m going to give him a heart attack.

He stares at me, wide-eyed, and even takes a step back, as if my eagerness has dealt him a blow. 

I snatch the tray from his hands, ensuring that our fingers stay far from touching, and throw myself down on the floor, feeling like absolutely nothing could drag me down from my own personal, soupy, cow-milk-filled cloud nine. Even the chipped plastic spoon doesn’t depress me, even though it leaks soup all over the place and pinches my tongue.

“So, Mike,” I mumble through a spoonful of soup, suddenly remembering that I have an audience, “What’s the occasion? What made all of you idiots change your mind about the gourmet unicorn shit? Not that I’m gonna miss it or anything.”

He frowns at me. “How do you know my name?”

I stare at him for a second with an are-you-serious look, then burst out laughing. “You have a fucking nametag, stupid.”

He looks at me with this oh look, as if he just noticed the goddamn nametag.

“So? What’s up with the sudden urge to cook more than shit on a plate?” I prompt, pointing at the now-empty soup bowl with the chipped spoon.

He shrugs, but doesn’t offer more of an answer than that.

I shoot him a suspicious look.

He gives in with a sigh.

“Things are going to change, Miss Hartright,” he answers cryptically.


	13. |12|

I can’t fucking fall asleep.

Thanks a hell of a lot, Mike.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You tell me that things are going to fucking change, and then you expect me to just stay calm without knowing what the hell is happening in my own life?

I wish I was brave enough to slap him. With a chair. In the face. Actually, maybe I will.

So here I am, tossing and turning restlessly and wondering if I’m going to get real full-fledged dessert tomorrow.

Ooh, maybe they’ll get me a sandwich. 

Now I want a sandwich.

God. Fucking. Damn. It. Mike.

Fed up with tossing and turning, I reach under the bed and grope around for my notebook and pen. I crack it open at the last page and start writing:

_IHATEMIKEIHATEMIKEIHATEMIKEIHATEMIKEIHATEMIKEIHATEMIKE._

_I WANT A SANDWICH._


	14. |13|

I wake up in the morning with my notebook in my lap and my pen in my hand, extremely confused as to how I ended up like this.

“What the hell?” I think out loud.

“My thoughts exactly.”

I jump a little at Mike’s voice, more than a little startled.

“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” I chuckle uneasily, closing the notebook and capping the pen.

He nods at the notebook, an actual smile on his face. “I didn’t know you wrote in that thing.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you knew everything about me.”

He shakes his head and chuckles softly. “Far from it. We can’t read minds, Persephone.”

“Thank God for that,” I mutter under my breath.

He laughs at that. A real laugh. I gawk at him until he clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

“So, what’s for breakfast? A sandwich? _Please?_ ”

I walk over to him, staring up at him pleadingly. He just chuckles and gestures towards the open door.

“You’ll see.”

I take turns gawking at the door, and then at him. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“You’re really letting me out?!” I finally manage to blurt, pointing at the door.

“Well, it’s not like we’re trying to let the rats in, are we?” 

I stare at him openly, shaking my head slowly before smiling grimly. “When you said things were gonna change, you definitely weren’t bullshitting me.”

His laughter fades behind me as I step out of the door, into a cold metal hallway. There are two ways to go; right, or straight ahead. I turn to Mike, who is starting to look like the most amazing person on the planet.

“Which way?”

He just smirks in a way that I’m pretty sure is cocky, but just looks abnormal on Mike. “Just follow me.”

He sets off at an easy pace, heading straight and turning left, and then after that I lose track of which hallway we take and when we turn and how many rooms we pass before we stop at one.

Written on the door in small black letters is the word _Showers_. 

I stare back up at Mike with an _are-you-sure_ look. He just nods at me, gesturing for me to open the door.

I hesitantly reach for the door handle.

Paranoia has decided to ruin this moment.

I mean, the showers could be booby trapped. Maybe it’s going to be a whole Concentration-Camp-scenario all over again. Or maybe a murderous psychopath is waiting for me inside with a knife or a gun. Or maybe…

No. You know what? I’m just going to open the door and find out for myself.

Screw you, paranoia.

In one fluid movement, I throw the door open and reach for my pocket knife, preparing myself to defend against a psychopath murderer.

But there’s nobody there.

Feeling ridiculously stupid, I step into the room.

It’s all marble counter tops and shiny metal sinks and gleaming shower heads and ornate tiles and spotless mirrors. Everything is so ridiculously shiny and spotless it reminds me of a pearl. Not that I’ve ever seen one before, but I can faintly remember seeing a picture of one. I have no idea where, though.

“Take your time. Just come out when you’re ready.”

Those are Mike’s last words to me before he shuts the door, leaving me to my privacy.

I glance around the room one last time, still trying to get over the shock of the fact that I get to take a shower. A real shower, with hot water and everything. Or, at least, I think there’s hot water.

There better be hot water.

That’s when I notice the fresh change of clothes, lying neatly folded on the counter top.

Is this what a superstar feels like?

If so, it feels awesome.


	15. |14|

The water was hot. It was glorious.

And then I got to wrap myself in this towel that was the color of dawn clouds and it felt like I was being hugged by cotton candy and the soap smelled like heaven.

I think I literally spent 45 minutes just taking the damn shower and reveling at how amazing it felt.

After I finally decided it was time to take the towel off and get dressed and face the change that was coming, it took me less than two minutes to finish up. After slipping on the new jeans and the purple t-shirt, I checked myself out in the mirror, more curious than anything else about what I looked like without the layer of dirt and grime.

Wide, excited, incredulous eyes of a shocking shade of a bluish green stare back at me. My hair, hanging in wet strands around my face, is the darkest shade of black you could think of. My skin, looking ghostly white in comparison, looks surprisingly healthy.

I smile as I check out my new outfit.

My purple t-shirt clearly states that “I’m not pessimistic, I’m realistic”. It’s so… me. How the hell did they know I would like this shirt? How the hell did they know that I was _pessimistic_?

I shrug the thought off, slip on my watch, and walk over to the door, throwing it open with this huge ridiculous smile on my face that I can’t seem to be able to get rid of.

Mike smiles right back at me, seeming to notice my mood change.

“You look happy,” he remarks.

I shoot him a look. “No shit, Sherlock.” But I still can’t stop smiling as I turn to face the hallway.

I glance up at him hesitantly. “Where now?”

He smirks. “Follow me.”

He sets off at a brisk pace, leaving me to fall behind.

“Of course,” I grumble under my breath, glaring at his back as I race to keep up with him.

After a series of lefts and rights and me struggling to keep up (hey, that’s what they get for keeping me locked up for nine years), Mike finally stops in front of a door, quite similar to the door to the showers. Hell, quite similar to every single door that we’ve passed by, except this one has the words _Dining Hall_ on it.

“Dining hall? What is this, some kinda fancy meeting? Or is this a whole _we’re-sorry-for-locking-you-up-in-that-shithole-of-a-room-for-almost-a-decade_?”

I shoot Mike a pointed look, raising an eyebrow and placing my hands on my hips.

“Nothing fancy about it, believe me,” he says simply, stepping in front of me and grabbing the door handle.

“But then-”

I trail off mid-sentence for a very good reason, believe me.

Mike has opened the door.

“Perse?”


	16. |15|

Seventeen pairs of eyes stare at me, each and every one of them sporting something along the lines of surprise and awe.

I turn to Mike.

“ _You're-the-best-I-fucking-love-you-ah!_ ” I squeal. “ _I-would-so-hug-you-right-now!_ ”

He stares at me for a second, watching me hop up and down in place for about ten seconds before bursting out laughing.

And then something rams into me, and things take a turn for the worse.

“ _Perse-I-thought-I'd-never-see-you-again!_ ” Tia squeals, squeezing me tight.

But it’s too late. It’s too late. She’s touched me. She’s touched me and Lilith is going to come out and kill her and play her game of death and Tia is going to die because she decided to hug me. Her fingers, her arms, have brushed my skin, and Lilith knows that there is someone near that she can kill, if only she takes over. Lilith is not stupid. Lilith knows that I’ve tried to stop her from coming out by avoiding touch, so much that I am terrified of it, but it’s no use. I was doomed from the day I was born. My number was chosen by the devil and he has reserved a seat for me down in Hell right next to the bringer of my demise, Lilith. It doesn't matter how hard I try, I will end up in that seat, next to my archenemy, who also happens to be a piece of myself, and she’ll be laughing at me as I watch all of the people she’s killed dance about in Heaven and think about how she killed them all, she sent them there. And now Tia’s going to join them because Lilith has come out to play.

She has pulled the curtain down in front of my eyes, shut off the lights. 

And when I wake, she will make sure that what I see will haunt me for the rest of my days.

But this time will be worse.

Because this time, it will be Tia that I see, and not some random stranger or some person that means next to nothing to me.

I hate my life.


	17. |16|

_Horatia_

Things just kept gettin’ weirder in this god damn hellhole.

First, Little Miss Sunshine is just kinda randomly, yet mysteriously, murdered, and a gal who we didn't even know existed happens to be in the room when it happens. And this girl just happens to be fuckin' awesome.

And then, I’m just here, huggin’ that same girl ‘cause damn, I’m happy to see her, ‘cause there’s finally some decent folk ‘round here, and she goes all murderous psychopath on me.

And I ain’t kiddin. If Mikey hadn't o’ been there, I’d o’ been royally—and quite tragically—screwed. Also, very dead.

But Mikey was there, an’ he pulled me outta the way before Perse-That-Ain’t-Perse could slaughter me with her Pocket Knife of Doom.

Seems that us kids was the only ones who weren’t aware that Perse had a part-time job as a demonic, psychopathic murderer with wicked awesome skills.

What? So, she was tryin’ ta kill me. That don’t mean that I can’t admire someone’s skills when it’s plain ta see that they got ‘em, right?

Mikey pushes me behind him, much to my complete and utter disapproval. I mean, sure, I’m a girl, but that don’t mean that I can’t take care of my own goddamn self, thank you very much.

And then he just kinda outta nowhere pulls out a tranquilizer gun, as if it just kinda conveniently materialized in thin air in front o’ him. He aims it right at Hell-Bitch-Perse, his face completely unreadable. Perse-The-Hell-Bitch just kinda smiles, that evil kinda smile that all o’ them villains in movies have just before they unleash the full wrath of their evil plan on ya.

“Well, you’ve sure made things easier for me,” Hell-Bitch purrs, not even fazed when Mikey’s finger slips closer to the trigger. “You brought them all into one room, and then you had this one-” she points at me “-practically tackle poor Persephone. And since you’re being all ‘Protective Daddy’, I guess I’ll have to kill you too.” Her smile widens, her now-cruel and hard—yet still shocking—blue-green eyes glinting maliciously. “Oh, Persephone will just about die if I kill you all. Especially you, you and you… Oh, and maybe you, too.” She points at me, then at Mikey, then at Cato and then at Kaleb.

Mikey’s hold on the gun tightens. With his other, free hand he reaches to his side and unclips a walkie-talkie from his belt, bringing it up to his face and muttering a few urgent words into it so quickly that the only words I can understand are “Lilith” and “play”.

“Sorry to interrupt this… Err… Highly interesting exchange here, but who the fuckin' hell is Lilith and why the hell does Missy Hell-Bitch here wanna murder us all?!” I snap, glaring at Missy Hell-Bitch herself.

She just smiles. Damn, does she ever do anything but fuckin' smile in that creepy, _I’ve-already-won-so-just-give-up-already-or-I-will-make-your-life-miserable_ and _I-know-what-you’re-thinking-I-know-everything-about-you_ way?

I was hopin’ for an answer from Mikey. No such luck. He just looks extra pale with a side of ghostly whiteness, and is clutching that damn gun like it’s the only thing keepin’ him sane. 

“Oh, Tia. So innocent… So… Ignorant.” She grins again. “I’m Lilith. And I’m here to make Persephone’s life a living hell.” She spreads her arms, as if tryin’ ta show me all of the possible ways that she could do that. Her smile widens at the same time as my eyes do. 

Mikey finally speaks up. 

“You will not harm these children, Lilith,” he states somewhat firmly. 

“I prefer Missy Hell-Bitch,” I grumble under my breath. 

Missy Hell-Bitch, AKA Lilith, smiles. Again. 

“Like hell, I won’t hurt these kids.” 

She slinks forward, her way of approachin' us strangely remindin’ me of that of the way a lioness moves when she’s stalkin’ her prey. 

She stalks closer, ‘til the barrel o’ Mikey’s gun is pressed to her forehead. 

I can’t decide if she’s brave or reckless. Or maybe she just doesn't care if she dies, ‘cause Perse goes down with her. 

She lifts a hand, her long, sharp fingernail guiding Mikey’s chin up. 

“And who’s going to stop me, anyway?” she murmurs innocently, dropping the hand with a dark chuckle. 

“I am,” Mikey chokes out, his jaw clenched. 

Lilith’s laughter echoes around the room, a reminder that she is everywhere, and that we’ve got nowhere to go. She’s blockin’ the goddamn door, anyway. 

“Oh, honey, that’s cute. But you don’t stand a chance against me. You can’t kill me. Not if you want to keep your little friend Persephone around,” she chuckles, smiling as if she’s already won. 

I sigh, my brain seemin’ ta choose that moment to realize that there’s nothin’ we can do. We’re all gonna die, today. 

Killed by someone who could o’ been my best friend. 

I look back at the other kids. 

Little Al looks like he’s ‘bout ta faint any second now. The kid probably thinks that Perse is fuckin’ possessed by one of them ghosts he fears so much. Cattie-o just looks fuckin' helpless, and Kal has never looked so utterly defeated. Will stares right back at me with a cold determination, an I can tell that she, like me, doesn’t wanna die today, an' doesn’t wanna kill Perse either. Ty looks terrified, Nevi completely heart-broken, and Edi is just starin’ down at her hands. In other words, all o’ the kids, all o’ mah people, is sad, very, very sad, and very, very hopeless. 

An I gotta do somethin’ ‘bout it. 

“Hey, um, Lilith, was it?” I step out from behind Mikey, trying to act like I’m talkin’ ta Perse and not some demonic psychopath lady who could kill me with one move.

Psychopath Bitch cocks her head curiously, but doesn’t lunge for me. Phew. 

“Ya know, you shouldn’t just kill us all at once, ya know? Ya gotta build the moment, build the suspense, and then go for the big finish, ya know? Start small, an then end it all with an explosion!” 

The words just kinda leave my mouth. I ain’t even sure if what I said made any sense, but all o’ the kids, and Mikey, is starin’ at me with these _what-the-fuck_ looks on their faces, and Lilith actually looks like she’s considerin’ whatever the hell I just blurted. 

Finally, she breaks the silence. 

“I can see why Persephone likes you. You make a lot of sense.” She looks at me and smiles in a way that isn’t entirely hostile, but is still very far from being even the slightest bit nice. “I won’t kill you all yet. But I’m still killing one of you. There’s no way that I came out of here for nothing.” 

Anyone who had looked even the slightest bit relieved when she said that she wasn’t killing everyone looked like someone had just punched them in the gut. 

Of course, then Mikey has to start acting stupid right now. 

“No, you’re not killing anyone today. Not this time.” 

Lilith just smiles. “Seems like Jail-Boy has offered himself.” 

And then she lunges. There’s no time to react, no time to even try to prevent what we all knew was unavoidable. But we didn’t know it would be him. 

Suddenly, a bloody pocket knife is a few inches from my nose, protruding from Mikey’s back. 

He didn't even have any time to shoot his gun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note - this is the only chapter not written in Persephone's point of view.


	18. |17|

This time, when I wake up to blood and death and devastation, I’m not alone.

Somehow, this makes it worse.

It also doesn’t help that the dead person lying in front of me is not at all who I expected it to be, but is still heartbreaking nonetheless because I can’t help but think about how we were just starting to get along, to be kinda-friends.

But now he’s dead.

And I’m the one holding the handle of the bloody pocket knife that is still impaling his chest.

And the worst part?

He’s not dead.

He’s dying.

“Mike!” I gasp, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

He tries to smile, fails, and coughs up a decent-sized puddle of blood on my shirt. Hopefully not on purpose, but probably.

“This is all my fault…,” I sob, moving to help support his weight as I help him lie down on the cold cement floor.

And it is. It’s my fault, because if I hadn’t killed Jennifer, then he would never have been given the position of being my Jailer. Also, if I hadn’t killed Jennifer, then I never would’ve met Tia and the penguin-kids, and this whole situation would’ve been avoided.

And yet, somehow, I’m kinda glad that it all happened. Because if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met Mike, or Tia, or Kaleb, or Cato, or any of the other penguin kids, and I still would’ve been stuck with overly-peppy Jennifer. I mean, sure, I’m not exactly thrilled that she’s dead, but I’m kinda glad that she isn’t the one waking me up anymore.

And Mike won’t be that person, either. Not anymore.

“Perse...phone…,” Mike croaks, the slightest hint of a smile on his face, “...I… I… chose this…”

My eyes widen. “What?!”

His kinda-smile widens. “This…-” he briefly looks at the pocket knife that I still clutch “-wasn’t… your… f…-” he coughs violently, spattering blood everywhere “-fault.”

He wheezes, but doesn’t break eye contact with me.

His eyes - those stone gray eyes that I never bothered to notice before - will haunt me forever, along with Jennifer’s sticker, and Christina’s tattoo, and Tyler’s ring, and…

“Perse?”

My gaze snaps up. The horror has been renewed.

Because only now do I notice Tia, standing right there, looking like she’s seen a ghost. Or maybe she is a ghost. White enough to be one, anyway. And the girl’s tanned. What I once thought impossible has happened, right before my eyes. And I wish it hadn’t.

I release the pocket knife, slowly rising to my feet and leaving my spot crouching next to Mike.

“Perse?” Tia repeats, her paleness seeming to have toned down just a little bit.

Only then do I realize that this whole time, I’d been unconsciously muttering “No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening…” like a broken record.

Tia takes a step forward, and then I snap. I can’t take it anymore.

I run. I know it’s cowardly, but I turn and run.

The last thing I see is Mike’s eyes, now dull and unfocused, and completely robbed of life.

And it’s all because of me.


	19. |18|

The new Jailer’s name is Butch. Just Butch. No last name. Or, at least, not that I know of.

He’s covered in leather from head to toe, giving him a badass-ninja look. He’s even got a tattoo. On his face. And he’s also even worse than Before Mike; he’s got absolutely no emotion.

And he’s heavily armed. Guns, knives, you name it. He’s got it. I think he’s even got a grenade.

At least I know they’re finally taking precautions.

They also took away my pocketknife, and my notebook, and my pen. I have absolutely no way of keeping track of how long I’ve been here now.

I’ve tried asking Butch if I can at least have my notebook back. After all, I can’t kill anybody with a notebook, right?

Well, Butch doesn’t seem to think that. Maybe I should start calling him Bitch. I’m actually considering it.

You know what? I will.

So when he walks in carrying my breakfast tray, I do exactly that. I sit cross-legged on the floor, awaiting my shit-like meal. When he finally opens the door and places the tray in front of me, I do it.

“Thanks, Bitch,” I purr with a huge smile, holding in my laughter as I duck my head and pretend to be completely absorbed by my unicorn shit.

_Jennifer…_

“What did you just call me?!” Bitch growls, his voice demanding an answer.

I act as if he hadn’t even spoken, spooning the slop into my mouth innocently. And then Bitch decides to be a complete bastard.

“I asked you a question!” he snaps, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up. I meet his glare head-on, without flinching, even when one of his eyes start to twitch. Actually, that just makes me want to laugh, but given the circumstances… I don’t think it’s a good idea.

“Oh, you did?” I answer innocently, unable to help the huge smile that spreads across my face because I’ve finally got a reaction from him.

And only then do I remember that his hand is under my chin.

He’s touching me.

And everything shifts. My amusement plummets into full-blown terror, and where I was once calm I am now frantic, scrabbling against his hold and trying to get away, but he just tightens his grip, not realizing that I’m trying to get away for his own good.

He takes it that I’m scared of him. Completely misreads it. Man, he’s a complete airhead. All brawn, no brains.

He plucks me from the ground, his hands wrapping around my neck, and slams me into the wall, lifting me high enough that my feet dangle in the air uselessly.

_Jesus, he has a fucking death-wish._

“I’m sick and tired of you and your goddamn attitude!” he roars, spitting all over me in his anger. I mean, I get that he’s mad and all, but he could at least be a little bit more polite.

And then his grip tightens too much.

It’s uncomfortable now. Too uncomfortable. Losing breath, where did all the air go, can’t breathe… Vision… Tunneling…

_Oh no, not again… Not so soon…_

And I black out. But not because of lack of breath.


	20. |19|

Two days. I only had him for two days, and Lilith killed him. I killed him. Because of a stupid joke, he’s dead.

I hope that I never get another Jailer. I hope that they just leave me alone in here to starve to death. At least it would be a happy ending for everyone else here.

Because at the rate things are going, I’m going to end up killing absolutely everyone in this building, and then I’m going to move to the next building and the next until everyone I know and love and could possibly care about is dead.

Maybe I should just ask to go outside and bury myself alive. Or drown myself. Or jump off the roof. Or maybe I could just ask for a rope and hang myself from one of the pipes on the ceiling.

At least the Jailers would be safe, even though they’re idiots.

The penguin-kids will be safe. Cato will be safe, and Kaleb will be safe…

...Tia will be safe…

And so I sit here, crouched in a corner with my knees up and my head down, pondering my suicide.

Surrounded by the blood of my latest victim.

I know it’s there, pooled at my feet, soaking into my new jeans, a constant reminder of what I am.

I’m a murderer.

I’m a monster.


	21. |20|

It takes them what feels like forever to find me. I guess they thought I’d take Butch somewhere else to murder him; no, instead, I killed him in my own room. Coated my own floors in blood, spattered my own walls with gore, corrupted my own air with the screams of agony that I can still hear echoing in my ears. I slashed my own bed with the bloody knife, this time. And then I laid the corpse of my caretaker on it, complete with bullet wounds and slashes and cuts and stabs and God knows what else.

And only then do I realize that this time is different.

This time, he left me something to remember him by.

It’s not just his blood that drips to the floor like a broken faucet. I’m hurt too. I was shot. He shot me.

Victory swells up inside of me. The pain is wonderful. It’s exactly what I deserve, for all that I’ve done. In fact, I deserve it times ten. No, times a hundred.

I deserve a hundred bullet wounds. I deserve to hear that bang as the bullet leaves the gun, knowing that I’m not the one who was shooting it this time.

And so, when they finally do find me, and do their whole ritual of asking me if I’m alright, I tell them that everything is absolutely wonderful.

And a lady escorts me to my new room, constantly asking me if I’m sure I’m okay because I’m covered in blood, and I tell her yes, I’m perfectly fine, the blood is Butch’s.

And nobody seems to notice that there’s a bullet lodged in my shoulder. And the wound won’t stop bleeding.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and bleed to death.


	22. |21|

I don’t get that far, though. I don’t last long enough.

Because, stupid me, I forgot that you can faint from blood loss. And as you’ve probably already guessed, that’s exactly what I did. Because I am not a super hero, and I do not have an infinite supply of blood to bleed out.

At least I still have my bullet wound. And it still hurts. I think. I can’t really tell, what with the whole being unconscious thing going on.

I wonder if you’re supposed to have dreams or something. Maybe Jesus appears and tells you some kinda prophetic bullshit to get your hopes up. Ooh, maybe you receive an omen from some goddess in skimpy clothes!

What? Everyone knows that fortune-tellers wear skimpy clothes! So why wouldn’t omen-bringing goddesses?

Well, anyway, if something is supposed to be happening, then there is something seriously wrong with my brain. Apart from the fact that Half #1 likes murdering people that are close to Half #2.

Maybe I’m dead.

Yeah, but if I was dead, wouldn’t some angel, or maybe Jesus or God or something, come get me? And where’s that light that you’re supposed to go to? That is the way it works, right?

You know, this unconscious thing would be a lot less boring if I was at least dreaming of something. No, instead I’m stuck watching a goddamn black screen with nothing but my thoughts for company.

Oh no, what if I wake up? What if I’m not dead?

Wait a second. If I am dead, then why would Jesus or God or an angel or whoever the freaking hell comes to get dead people come get me?! After all, I’m most definitely going to hell.

Anyway, back to whatever it was that I was thinking of.

Wait, what was I thinking of?

Oh, goddamn it! If only I’d known freaking bullet wounds induce memory loss/forgetfulness.

Maybe I’ll start hallucinating too. That would be interesting. I’d like to see a blue and green zebra, maybe a talking mongoose.

Ooh! I know!

An exotic pineapple-mango three-tailed llamacorn. With a cherry on top.

Beautiful. Just. Beautiful.

I am going to draw one of those as soon as I get my notebook back. And my pen back.

It’ll be even better if I start hallucinating. Then I’ll have a live model.

Wait. Wait a second.

Why is there a light all of a sudden?

Am I hallucinating? Is Jesus coming to get me?

No, Jesus isn’t coming. Well, maybe it’s Jesus, but if so, then why the hell isn’t he moving?

Ooh, maybe I’m supposed to go to him!

Wait… Why should I? Stranger danger! Just because he’s in books, doesn’t mean I know him!

But what else is there to do? I mean, I’m not just gonna keep talking to myself in my head when there’s a possible exit right there in front of my nose.

Besides, maybe I’ll really start hallucinating and I’ll see an exotic pineapple-mango three-tailed llamacorn.

So I go to the light.


	23. |22|

The stupid light was an exit alright.

But it did not involve any exotic pineapple-mango three-tailed llamacorns with cherries on top.

No, instead, it involved glaring lights shining right in my eyes and almost permanently blinding me, a mattress underneath me that feels like it’s made of cardboard, and an annoying lady in a nurse outfit buzzing worriedly around a room that is way too clean for my taste, constantly running over to my cardboard (I refuse to call it a bed) and asking me if I’m okay, if I feel dizzy, and a whole bunch of shit like that which I stop answering after about five minutes.

And the worst part?

My shoulder has been bandaged, the bullet probably removed. Which means it’s going to heal.

Ugh. Curse doctors and all of their goddamn advanced technology. Now I probably won’t even have a scar.

Wait. Will I?

“Lady! Quick question.”

Nurse Lady scampers over to me, her eyes wide. “What? What is it? What’s wrong? What hurts? Do you need pain meds? Are you hungry? No, you must be thirsty. I’ll go get you some…"

I cut her off. “No. None of those things. I just have a question concerning El Bullet Wound.”

She nods, gesturing for me to go ahead.

“Am I gonna have a scar?”

Nurse Lady ponders the question for a bit, her eyebrows furrowing in a way that’s almost funny before she runs a hand through her short curly brown hair and actually answers it.

“Most likely. But if you don’t want one, then I can go ask the doctor if…”

Again, I cut her off. Damn, this girl can talk.

“No. It’s all good.”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. Nurse Lady smiles back, though she appears to be uncomfortable.

Good.

“So, when am I getting out of this shit– I mean, this beautiful room?” I ask, smiling wider in an attempt to cover up my almost-slip.

Nurse Lady seems to decide to ignore my slip-up. “Dr. Murray said that you could leave as soon as you woke up. Just-”

But I’m already up and out of bed, racing towards the door.

“-Tell your caretaker if you need some pain meds!” she yells after me, but the words barely register.

I’m free. Actually, literally, genuinely free. I can go wherever the hell I want right now because I don’t have a Jailer tailing me 24/7.

I feel like a bird who had a broken wing that has now been mended, and I can fly again. I don’t need anybody else to fly for me.

And then my bubble of happiness just shatters, because I run right into a tall dude that’s all lab coat and clipboard and glasses.

“Someone looks happy,” Glasses Dude muses, sounding a lot more amused than he should be.

Because I just touched him. He just touched me.

And he’s so vulnerable, bending down to pick up his fallen clipboard, his back and neck entirely exposed…

The only thing I can think is not again when I black out. Again.


	24. |23|

When I wake up this time, I’m not surrounded by blood.

I’m in what looks suspiciously like a jail cell.

And I can’t help but feel relieved.

Holy shit, I must be the world’s most mentally fucked-up criminal.

But I am not kidding.

I’m relieved.

Now, I can’t hurt anyone.

But I can reflect.

That is what people are supposed to do when they’re in jail, right?

Think about the shitload of stuff that they’ve done to completely screw up their lives and hope that maybe Jesus will appear and kick them the hell outta there because they’ve wallowed in their own guilt long enough?

That was a very long sentence.

What the hell, Persephone.

You are fucking talking to yourself.

I am a fucking idiot.

Yeah, I am.

Because I should be feeling super freaking guilty right now, and the only thing I can do is point out to myself that I am thinking in long sentences.

I should be questioning the fucking meaning of life right now.

But no, instead I’m telling myself that I’m thinking in long sentences.

Why should I care, anyway? It’s my brain, and yet my own brain is questioning my brain and my head is starting to hurt from all of this complex thinking. Well, more like confusing thinking, but whatever.

And then I hear a creaking sound. I wouldn’t be surprised if my ears are now bleeding.

And then the wall fucking opens.

A few seconds ago, it was a regular, normal-looking metal wall used to trap mental psychopaths.

Now, a door just kinda magically popped up and opened.

So now it’s a regular, normal-looking metal wall used to trap mental psychopaths with a magical door that pops out of nowhere and scares the shit out of you.

“Ms. Hartright?”

The voice belongs to a lady who looks as cold as she sounds, and that’s pretty damn cold, let me tell you. She even has a fucking clipboard.

She has bleached-blonde hair, all done up in a neat bun, nice and fancy and all that shit. Although, her blonde isn’t as pale as Alistair’s blonde.

I feel a pang in my stomach.

_Alistair._

_The penguin kids._

_Are they okay?_

“Are they okay?”

Fancy-Bun-Lady raises her eyebrow at me.

“I did not give you permission to speak, young lady,” she snaps coldly in one of those _I’m-better-than-you-so-listen-the-fuck-up-and-shut-your-fucking-face-before-I-send-you-to-your-room_ voices.

“You’re not my fucking mom,” I hiss back at her.

I can’t help it. I was made to openly rebel against authority.

“I’m glad I’m not your mother. She is partly to blame for all of this mess that you’ve caused,” she answers, her voice like a fucking block of ice.

Holy shit, this lady’s good.

Because I am speechless.

Ms. I’m-Going-To-Freeze-Your-Ass-With-My-Voice has rendered me, Persephone Hartright, speechless.

“Now, you are going to cooperate, or else there will be severe consequences.”

That gets me right back into it.

“Like what? I’ve got nothing to lose, dumbass,” I snort, crossing my arms.

Her brow raises. Again. Damn, she’s annoying.

“You have a notebook filled with all of your personal thoughts.”

Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

“No! Where the fuck is it? You aren't touching that thing, not while I'm still alive!” I screech, trying to get up so I can slap her or punch her or anything.

I only manage to move a few feet away from the wall when it feels like my arms are being wrenched out of their sockets.

So I fall back to the ground, feeling like a five-year-old.

“We have not touched your notebook. I do not enjoy invading others’ privacy, and so instead I came to you, hoping that you would cooperate and I would not have to violate your personal space.”

A part of me sighs in relief at that, but the majority of me still wants to bite her head off.

If only Phil the fire-breathing flying rabid turtle were real.

“You chained me to the fucking wall?” I snarl.

Not knowing what else to do, I spit at her, feeling like a feral animal.

“Persephone Hartright, we can no longer afford to have you killing people as you please. We have put you in jail, and should that not be enough to stop you from murdering innocent people, we will simply have to kill you.”


	25. |24|

That’s what they think?

They think I wanted to kill all of those innocent people?

They think I enjoy taking away the lives of people that I have absolutely nothing against?

Well, except for Butch. He kinda deserved what he got. Well, not the death part. Maybe a few wounds, but not death.

Never death.

“You think I wanted to kill all of those people.”

My voice is cold, hard, and calm. Don’t ask me how I managed that; inside, I’m screaming and cursing in very colorful ways.

Even though I don’t phrase it is a question, she still answers.

“All murderers kill because they want to. There is no ‘accidentally’ killing someone. You are no exception.”

_Oh, you have no fucking idea._

“Ma’am, what’s your name?”

I don’t really care, but I’m trying to be polite.

I know. Completely unlike me.

Jail really does make you do crazy things.

“You may call me Inspector.”

Inspector? I asked for your name, idiot, not your title! Oh, whatever. I tried. I fucking tried.

“Listen, Inspector Cold-As-Fucking-Ice, I have DID. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

She nods curtly. “Yes. I was notified.”

“Did it ever freaking occur to you that maybe, just maybe, my ‘second personality’ was the murderer?”

She stares at me. “Those with Dissociative Identity Disorder have fragmented personalities. It does not mean that there are two people inhabiting one body.” She looks me over. “Some part of you, inside of that mind, does, indeed, want to kill. There is a part of you that did want to kill all of those people.”

Holy shit.

She’s fucking right.

Lilith and I are the same.

Lilith just likes killing a lot more than I do.

In fact, if I didn't have DID, then maybe Lilith and I would be the same person.

Maybe I would be Lilith.

Which is the real one, then?

Lilith or Persephone?


	26. |25|

I got my notebook back, but only because I ‘asked nicely’.

I had to, okay? Trust me, I didn’t want to.

But I really needed some company, and my written thoughts are the closest thing I’ve got.

Although, it’s really awkward, trying to flip the pages with your arms shackled to a wall.

I make it work, though.

I tell myself that I won’t cry. I’m stronger than that.

And yet, I always go back to one entry.

And I always get all teary-eyed.

_He is not blind, despite his looks… She is afraid of beards because she was abused by a dude with a huge beard… She does not appreciate people picking on other people… Good luck getting a whole conversation out of her… Do not use words that are longer than ten letters around him… Ever… Whatever you do, keep him away from reflective objects… Possibly a vampire… Do not invite him into kitchens… Her name is probably the most ironic thing ever… Do not ask him if he wants pepperoni or all-dressed pizza, he will probably just die… She will definitely buy a one-floor house when she’s older… Do not celebrate his birthday… I’m surprised she even came… I wonder how the hell he eats…_

Repeating the words to myself as if they’re my own little healing mantra, I finally manage to fall asleep, clutching the notebook to my chest.

It’s my only friend left in a world like this.


	27. |26|

_The world around me is a swirling sea of black smoke, even the floor, which is just weird._

_So, technically, I’m walking on smoke._

_“What is this place?” I find myself wondering out loud, turning around in a slow circle and trying to find something, anything, that isn’t black smoke._

_“We’re inside of your mind, Persephone,” an amused voice answers._

_The voice kinda sounds like mine, but doesn’t at the same time. This voice is more musical, more alluring, more… pretty._

_I whirl around, but I don’t see anyone._

_“Inside of my mind? And who’s we?”_

_I don’t let on to whoever-it-is that I’m kinda freaking out right now._

_And then things get weirder._

_Because I feel a presence behind me._

_Since when do I feel when people are behind me?_

_But I turn around anyway. If I’m going to have weird powers inside of my head, then I might as well use them._

_And standing in front of me is me._

_Well, sort of._

_She’s just as pale as I am, if not paler. She also has the same black hair as me, except where mine is wavy, hers is straight, hanging down in a way that reminds me of the way dead people slump._

_Her eyes are bright red, and they have no pupils, or whites, now that I mention it. They’re just red. One hundred percent red. Creepy, creepy red…_

_Blood red._

_I shiver involuntarily._

_“I assume you know who you are, Persephone,” the red-eyed version of me purrs, glancing down at her nails as if she were having a perfectly normal conversation with someone. She looks up at me, smiles. “You know me. You just don’t know it.”_

_What. The. Hell._

_“Err… Okay. You couldn’t be more confusing?” I mutter sarcastically, rolling my eyes._

_Her smile widens._

_“You aren’t broken yet,” she whispers, almost as if she were speaking to herself._

_Then again, there’s a good chance I’m talking to myself, which means that the me that I’m talking to would be talking to another me and I am starting to get another headache thinking about it._

_“What do you mean?”_

_I’m kinda scared of the answer._

_She sighs in a sadness so fake I want to slap her, but I don’t. She slowly walks towards me, her steps so fluid and graceful that I’m starting to get jealous of her._

_And I am not prone to getting jealous._

_“Oh, poor, innocent Persephone,” she purrs, circling around me in a way that’s almost predatory._

_“You don’t know what’s going on, do you?”_

_I shake my head. She couldn't be more right. I have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening._

_“You see, Persephone, you were right all along.”_

_What? I was right about what?!_

_She is starting to piss me off._

_“You aren’t the one who killed all of those people. Lilith is not a part of you.”_

_Oh._

_“I am the one who killed those insignificant humans. I am Lilith, Queen of Demons. And I have placed a part of my being inside of you, inside of your body.”_

_Say who to the what now?_

_“Why?”_

_Okay, that is not at all what I was thinking of saying, but let’s just pretend that it was and go with it._

_She smiles at me, and I can see the sharp glint of fangs._

_“Because, Persephone, one of your descendants in the far future will be the cause of a large problem for me, and I’m going to make sure that your bloodline doesn’t even get that far.”_

_I gulp. “What are you saying?”_

_She stops circling me to stand right in front of me, her gaze mocking._

_“I’m saying, you stupid human, that I am going to slowly drive you mad, and make your life a living hell, and then I’m going to kill you when you’re nothing but a broken shell of who you are now and are begging me for death.”_


	28. |27|

When I wake up, my hands are bleeding and crusted with dried blood and I’m soaked with sweat.

My throat is hoarse and dry, as if I’ve been screaming.

It’s pitch black in here.

And then I hear the pounding on the wall. Well, probably the magical scaring-the-shit-out-of-you-door, but whatever. It looks like a wall to me.

“Perse! Perse, are you okay?!”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. How the hell did she get in here?

“Tia!”

My voice doesn’t sound worried or scared for her or even desperate. She needs to leave.

My voice sounds freaking relieved. Happy, even, that she’s there.

Without thinking about it, I lurch towards the door, only to bounce back with a shriek of pain that I didn’t want to let out.

“What are you doing? Open the goddamn door, you fuckin' idiot! She just fuckin' screamed! She was fuckin' screaming! I need to fuckin' know if she's fuckin' okay!”

That beautiful voice.

I never thought I’d hear it again.

I shouldn't have to hear it again.

“No! Tia, run! I'm dangerous! Stay away from me!” I yell with a broken sob.

I didn’t plan on the sob, believe me.

It just kinda happened.

Because I really didn’t want to say that. I really didn’t want to.

Instead, I wanted to tell her that she is the most amazing person I’d ever met and that I had missed her so much, even though I barely knew her. Instead, I wanted to tell her that she was my very first friend, the person who gave me hope that maybe there was something else inside of me, maybe I was more than a murderer…

_I am the one who killed those insignificant humans. I am Lilith, Queen of Demons. And I have placed a part of my being inside of you, inside of your body…_

What? Where did I hear that?

“No, Perse! I ain't leaving you, not this time. There ain't no way in hell that I'm gonna leave you alone while you is screamin' in pain!”

Oh, Tia. You… You are the best fucking person on this shithole of a planet.

And then the door bursts open.

Well, more accurately, the wall bursts open.

And once again, the door scares the shit out of me.

“Perse! Perse, you okay?”

Tia comes rushing up to me.

I back up against the wall, shaking my head.

“Tia, you can’t be here. You can’t…”

“Perse, you don’t go tellin’ me shit ‘bout where I can an’ can’t go. I'ma go wherever the hell I wanna go, and ain’t nobody gonna stop me. Now, you okay, or what?”

Her voice, so close, is music to my ears.

“Tia, I didn’t want to kill him…”

And yet, the only thing I can see when I look at her is the horror I saw on her face after she witnessed me murder Mike.

“Tia, you don’t understand, Lilith, she’s a demon, she’s inside of me, she’s gonna kill me, just like she killed Mike, and I can’t… There’s nothing I can do,” I sob, not even realizing until now that I’d been crying.

Tia is crying, too, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Perse, it’s okay. I’m here. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You could o’ killed Cattie-o and I would o’ still been here,” she murmurs, crouching in front of me, but far enough away that we’re not touching.

I laugh, my tears now tears of joy. “Cattie-o?”

“It’s the stupid nickname she gave me.”

Cato. Cato’s here too. He’s walking over to us, his eyes shining with tears.

I have never seen a man cry until now.

He crouches next to Tia, smiling at me.

“You guys… I… How… Where…”

I can’t seem to form a full sentence.

“I wish I could hug you guys,” I say, hoping that this one sentence will summarize my feelings enough that they understand.

Tia laughs, her laughter cut short by a sob. “I do too, Perse.”

“Even without the whole Lilith thing, I still wouldn’t be able to,” I laugh sadly, nodding at my shackled arms.

Tia’s eyes widen. Cato’s expression echoes hers.

Two seconds later, Tia is standing up, facing a man decked out in police gear.

“What the hell, George? What of the fuckin’ hell?” she snaps. “You said you was gonna lock her up, not that you was gonna chain her to a fuckin’ wall! Where’s the key? Where’s the goddamn key?”

I am liking this girl more and more.

“Ms. Osset, it should not be of your concern what is to be done with the prisoner. You shouldn’t even be seeing it. Getting attached to it will do you no good.”

“ _Did you just call me an it?_ ” I screech.

Cato looks between Tia and me, his expression one of amusement.

The police-idiot (I’m guessing George) pales noticeably.

“And I asked you for the goddamn key, _not_ your opinion, you bastard,” Tia adds, taking a step towards him.

Then, another girl swoops in, grabs something from George the Bastard’s belt, and darts away from the policeman, into the room. She glances over at us, holding up her hand, where a key dangles.

“Tia, you know that you just have to act, not scream,” the girl says, trotting over to us before dropping the key in Tia’s open hand.

Tia smiles. “You know, I was just creatin’ a distraction for ya, Will, so you could swoop in with your super-speed an’ swipe the stupid thing.”

The girl smiles back, then turns to me.

“My name is Willow Coldbridge,” she announces, smiling wearily at me.

Her name is probably the most ironic thing ever.

I smile back at her, as warmly as I can with iron shackles digging into my wrists. “You know who I am.”

She laughs at that.

She’s tall, and… Well… Willowy. Fragile-looking and skinny, as if she could be blown away in a strong breeze. She has olive-green eyes, and long, wavy brown hair that oddly reminds me of mouse fur, though I swear I’ve never seen a mouse.

At least, not that I know of.

Tia takes a step towards me in an uncharacteristically unsure way.

“You guys know you can’t break me out, right?” I ask nervously, shifting my weight as best I can when I’m sitting down.

Tia smiles grimly at me. “We sure as hell is gonna try.”


	29. |28|

Cato was charged with the task of trying to unlock my shackles without touching my skin.

Of course, it isn’t comfortable, no matter how hard he tries to stay away from me; he has to bend over the shackles so that he can see what he’s doing, which leaves him uncomfortably close.

Overall, I’m coiled tighter than a spring and am barely even breathing, Cato is cursing and just as tense as I am, Tia is groaning about how long this is taking and Willow is trying to help Cato as best as she can from a distance.

“No! Cato, you almost touched her there!” Willow calls to Cato, sounding worried.

“Oh, for goodness sake! We’d make the worst prison-break crew ever!” Tia groans.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. In fact, I would’ve, had my face not been inches from Cato’s shoulder.

Then I hear a click, and I feel the pressure around my wrist that I’d become accustomed to completely disappear.

My eyes fly open. I had shut them to help me concentrate.

“My arm is free!” I gasp.

“Yeah, just don’t move it, or else I’m toast,” Cato grumbles, slowly moving to my other side so that he can free my other arm from the shackles.

“A bloody puddle of toast at that,” Tia mumbles with a shudder.

My stomach sinks. I twist my body away from Cato to allow him easier access to my arm, facing the wall so that I won’t have to see the haunt of memory on Tia’s face.

“Tia! Way to make the girl feel worse!” Willow snaps.

“No, it’s okay, Willow, really. I don’t deserve to forget what I’ve done. I don’t deserve to even be getting this freedom that you guys are granting me.” I look over my shoulder at Willow and Tia, who are both staring at me. “You guys shouldn’t even be here.”

“Shouldn’t be, but we is here, so deal with it,” Tia snorts, placing her hands on her hips and smiling wryly at me.

I hear the second click, and the pressure on my left wrist disappears as well.

I fly to my feet, feeling my wrists, which are bleeding, the shackles were so tight.

I’m surprised I can even still feel my hands.

I look down at Cato, who’s smiling at me, though he also looks kinda concerned.

“You. Are. Fucking. Awesome,” I mouth, my lips seeming unwilling to actually voice the syllables.

His smile widens. “Thanks, but I already knew that,” he answers cockily, though he keeps glancing at my bleeding wrists.

“Yo, George! Go get us a fucking bandage, it’s the least you can do!” I hear Tia shout, followed by a chuckle from Willow.

I glance up as George dashes out of the room and a bleached-blonde head peeks in.

“Can we come in?” he asks shyly, glancing behind him at something that I can’t see.

“It ain’t me, or Will, or Cattie-o that you should be askin’, Al. It’s Perse,” Tia says, glancing at me unsurely.

The white-blonde boy’s gaze flickers to me, almost unwillingly.

“Can we come in?” he asks again, his voice even softer than before.

I shoot him a tentative smile. “Yeah, just… uh… Make sure there’s enough room,” I answer, feeling inexplicably awkward.

But when the boy returns my smile with his own radiant, white-toothed one, that awkward feeling dissipates completely.

He steps inside, followed by all of the other penguin-kids. They still huddle together, even though three of them seem very comfortable around me. The only one who doesn’t stand with the group is Kaleb, who studies the whole scene before him expressionlessly.

George chooses that exact moment to return with a roll of gauze and a roll of masking tape.

He takes one look inside of the room, and shoots Tia and Willow and Cato and me a disapproving look.

“You should all be outside,” he says to the hoard of penguin-kids, excluding Tia, Cato, Willow and I.

Some of them walk out of the room, but some of them stay. The white-blonde dude from before is one of them, I’m surprised to see, and so is Kaleb. Other than those two, there’s a dude with super-black hair, a girl with a black braid, and another girl with waist-length straight black hair have stayed, too.

Black-Haired Triplets, I decide to call them.

George throws Cato the gauze and the masking tape, seeming reluctant to approach me.

Cato picks up the gauze and tape, turns to me and takes a step towards me.

I take a step back.

“Cato, I don’t want to hurt you just because I have a couple of little cuts,” I murmur shakily.

Cato’s eyes widen. “Little cuts? Persephone, those are no little cuts. We need to take care of those right away.”

I glance down at my wrists, cringe away from the sight of the wounds, and look back up at him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I repeat.

Cato smiles. “I know. And you won’t hurt me. Just focus on you, Persephone. Focus on who you are, on being that person. I believe that you can do this. I know that you can do this,” he tells me, as if we’re the only two people in the room as he takes another step towards me.

I don’t back up this time.

Persephone Hartright doesn’t need to back up, because she has nothing to be afraid of.

There is no Lilith, not if I can fight back.

If I can find a way of not blacking out every single time I’m touched, then maybe Lilith will go away.

So I focus on me.

I don’t focus on my fear that Lilith will come out and kill Cato. I focus on how she won’t because I won’t let her. I am the one in control of this body, and therefore I decide when Lilith comes out.

Cato finally stops in front of me, glancing from my bleeding wrists to my eyes unsurely.

I clench my jaw, fisting my hands and squeezing hard to relieve myself of some of the tension I feel, and then opening my hands and unclenching my jaw and nodding at him.

He hands Willow, who is now standing behind him, the tape.

And then he reaches out with his right hand, the gauze held in his left.

I never noticed before, how rough and scarred his hands are.

And then he touches me.

And I don’t black out.


	30. |29|

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until now, when I let out a huge sigh of relief and revel in the wonderful feel of somebody else’s skin on mine.

That wonderful feeling that I haven’t had the full pleasure of feeling since the very day I was born.

But I don’t think about that.

I focus on now.

I watch his hand moving slowly as he wraps my wrist in gauze, some of the first layers immediately soaking through with blood but he doesn’t pay any attention to that, just keeps wrapping for awhile, then pauses, turns to Willow, and comes back with a piece of tape, securing the wrap of gauze in place.

Then he does the same for my other hand.

And not once do I black out.

Not once does Lilith come out to play.

I can feel her, trying to come.

But I’m fighting her, blocking her, cutting off her entrance.

I don’t know how, but I’m doing it.

Even when Cato’s finished wrapping my wrists, he doesn’t let go. I look up at him questioningly.

His expression is brighter than the sun, his smile stunning and his eyes alight with joy and happiness and pride and hope and so many other emotions that I haven’t seen in my whole life and I don’t remember what they’re called.

“I knew you could do it,” he whispers, just for me to hear. He squeezes my hand, as if to prove his point, and then lets go, turning back to everyone else as if nothing happened.

I stare after him for a few seconds, shocked.

For that one second, he looked like…

No, it can’t be.

I killed him.

Cato is not him.

Because he is dead.

I shake myself both mentally and physically, and then turn to the penguin-kids.


	31. |30|

And I have nothing to say.

“So… Now what?” I ask, feeling like a complete dumbass.

Tia looks thoughtful. “Well, since ya asked…” She turns to Willow. “We really gonna go through with this jail-break thing?”

Willow nods, and I can feel my heart swelling with joy.

Tia turns to Cato.

“Hell yes,” Cato says, smiling at me.

Tia turns to me then, this huge grin on her face.

“Perse, looks like we’re bustin’ ya outta this shithole,” she announces, as if it weren’t obvious.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock,” I can’t stop myself from grumbling, but I’m still smiling and trying very hard not to get emotional.

“Mah name is Horatia, Perse, and y’all should already know that,” she jokes.

“What’s with the country accent? I mean, really, y’all?” Cato asks, raising an eyebrow at Tia.

Tia raises an eyebrow right back at him. “Cattie-o, mah accent is one-of-a-kind, just like me. It ain’t country, and it ain’t nothin’ else, neither. It’s an Osset accent.”

I laugh. “An Osset accent. Nice.”

Tia smiles at me.

Willow chooses that moment to speak up.

“You guys really would make the worst prison-break crew ever. I thought you said we were busting Persephone out of this joint, and here you are, joking around. How about we actually do what we came here for, and joke around later.”

“You are absolutely right, Will. Cattie-o, it’s all your fault,” Tia immediately claims, scowling at the person in question.

“Is not!” Cato is quick to fight back.

“Geez, you two! I kinda want to get out of here today, if you don't mind,” I cut in, drowning out something that Tia had been saying.

“Right! To the Batmobile!” Cato shouts, pumping his fist in the air as he jogs towards the door.

“We don’t got a car, idiot,” Tia mutters under her breath.

I smirk after Cato. “I think it’s an interesting battle cry,” I remark, jogging to catch up to him.


	32. |31|

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

We’re confronted as soon as I try to leave the cell.

Cato passes without trouble. Tia, too.

But me?

Oh, of course not.

“Leaving. Now step aside before I go all psychopath-murderer on you,” I snap, crossing my arms and glaring up at him.

And I have to glare very upward, at that. The dude is much taller than I thought he was.

“You can’t leave. You are a prisoner.” He crosses his arms, too.

I sigh, roll my eyes, then close them. When I open them, I look back up at him.

“Look, buddy. George, was it? Anyway, we can do this the easy way, where you step aside and come out of this 100% alive and 0% chopped meat, or we can do this the hard way, where you touch me and I go Hell-Bitch-Crazy on your ass and you don’t go home to your mommy and daddy tonight, or ever. Choose wisely.”

I glance down at my wrist, as if to check the time, but they took off my watch, and the only thing there is gauze and a couple of spots of drying blood.

“There is no choosing. You’re going back in that cell, and that’s it,” he answers stubbornly, though there’s a nervous tremor in his voice.

I sigh. I am seriously fed up with people who have death wishes.

“Looks like it’s going to be the hard way.” I glance back at Willow, stepping aside to let her and the penguin-kids who had stayed out, and then looking towards the group huddled out in the hallway, waiting for me. “You guys get as far away from me as possible. If Lilith’s coming out, I want you guys gone, and far gone at that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The penguin-kids start backing away. Well, most of them.

Cato and Tia don’t even move.

Kaleb doesn’t like that one bit. “Guys, you heard what she said. Let’s get a move on.”

Tia turns to the older boy. “Yeah, we heard what she said, but we ain’t goin’ nowhere. Lilith don’t need ta come out; George just gotta realize that he’s bein’ a complete dumbass,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Tia, please. He touches me, and I’m gone,” I plead, looking over George’s shoulder at her.

“You isn’t gone. You did it before, you can do it again,” she answers, sounding like she believes in me so much that I want to cry.

“Tia, I don’t know how I did that before. I don’t know if I can do it again,” I whisper brokenly, feeling completely lost.

“Persephone, you can. I know you can.”

The sound of Cato’s voice surprises me for some odd reason. I mean, he was standing there and all, but he hadn’t said a word until now.

“Cato, you know I can, but I don’t. I don’t know that I can, because I don’t think that I can. Maybe I just got really lucky, and Lilith was tired and lazy and didn’t feel like killing.”

I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

_I am going to slowly drive you mad, and make your life a living hell, and then I’m going to kill you when you’re nothing but a broken shell of who you are now and are begging me for death._

Where the hell did I hear that?

I don’t get the chance to think about it, though.

Because George has grabbed my arm and is dragging me back into my cell.

In about two seconds, he’ll be dragging Lilith back into my cell.

I know this for sure when I black out.


	33. |32|

It’s different this time, though.

Because right after I black out, I wake up.

But it’s strange.

I’m inside of my body, seeing through my own eyes, but it’s not my own thoughts that I’m hearing.

_This time, you’re going to see it. You’re going to see it all._

Lilith.

“She warned you, you know,” I purr.

That’s not right. I do not ‘purr’.

And I do not talk about myself in the third person.

Just great. I have absolutely no control over my own body.

And apparently, now I have to witness a murder that, technically, I’m committing.

Great. Just. Fucking. Great.

_Oh, but it gets better, my sarcastic little friend._

I watch my eyes glance over at Cato and Tia.

_Your friends get a front row seat, too._

Of course, as soon as I started feeling sorry for myself, I am reminded that I am not the only human being on the planet.

Thank you, Lilith. I mean it. I needed that mental slap in the face.

If only it wasn’t Tia and Cato that had to see this. I don’t want them to see this. They shouldn’t have to see this.

Now, for the second time, they get to see me murder and innocent.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t as innocent as the others. He was, after all, the idiot who refused to let me go. But still. More or less innocent.

_Would you stop rambling? It is extremely irritating._

Yeah, and you constantly murdering everybody I meet is way worse than ‘extremely irritating’, Lilith. Geez.

Oh, and stop eavesdropping on my thoughts. It’s creepy, and you’re violating my privacy.

_haven’t murdered everyone yet, Persephone. And trust me, if I could turn off your thoughts, I would._

Idiot. Just kill me.

_No, that won’t do. You must suffer first._

Oh, just great. I’m so excited.

_Would you shut that flapping trap of yours and watch?_

Geez. I don’t want to watch.

But I do anyway.

George’s expression seems to have trouble deciding between horrified, confused and terrified. Damn, for all of his confidence before, he sure is a real scaredy-cat…

“Shit. Cattie, what do we do? She told us to run…”

Tia’s voice startles me for some reason. Like before with Cato, I knew she was there, but it was somehow still surprising to hear her speak.

“Cut it out with that stupid nickname!” Cato snaps.

It feels surreal watching them argue right now, when their lives are in grave danger. Talk about laughing in the face of death.

“And like I know what to do? We’re dealing with Demon Psychopath, not Persephone!” he whisper-hisses, but somehow I can hear it perfectly.

That is not at all normal.

_he power of an immortal demon, ignorant mortal. That is how you can hear your friends._

Oh. Great. Now my body is corrupted. Just fucking great. I’m going to need at least four showers to cleanse the demon filth from my body.

And now I sound like a nun or something.

_Can it, mortal._

How does she make it sound like an insult?

But it doesn’t matter right now, because I am stalking towards George like some sort of predator.

That is so not right.

“You should’ve just let her go, if you cared for your life…” I pause in my advance, pondering something. The smile that spreads across is 100% evil, and I don’t need a mirror to prove it.

“If you cared for how your poor wife, your poor daughter, are going to feel when you don’t come home after your shift.” I fake-pout, then cackle a musical laugh.

I can’t decide if the laugh makes me jealous or repulsed.

George blanches visibly, his eyes widening. It seems he has decided to go with fear.

“No, please no… Don’t hurt her… Don’t hurt Ariel, whatever you do… No…” His voice is desperate, almost hysterical. “And don’t hurt Amanda either. This is my fault. I’m the one who has done wrong here. They don’t deserve a consequence.”

I can sense Lilith’s pleasure at this statement.

“You are a sensible man. But you forgot one thing…”

George’s eyes widen to the point where I think they’re going to pop right out of their sockets and roll around on the floor.

I wouldn’t be all that surprised if Lilith ate them.

Well, I ate them.

Okay, that is just gross.

“They will suffer. Your death will take a very large toll on them, dear George,” I sneer, smirking at him victoriously.

This is usually the part in the story where some superhero pops up, all like ‘never fear, Captain I-Suck-At-Superhero-Names is here!’.

That is not going to happen in this case.

Lilith (I mean, me) is lunging right for George’s throat, my fingernails somehow having morphed into razor-sharp claws as an inhuman hiss rips itself from my throat.

And Tia and Cato are right there, watching as I tear George’s throat out.

And right then, blood gushing all over the place, George’s life fading from his body, Lilith decides to return my body to me.


	34. |33|

George’s brown eyes glare up at me with a hatred that is tangible, even as the light fades from them. He summons the strength to morph his expression into a full-on glower before his soul slips from his body, and he is alive no more.

I can feel the tears already trickling down my cheeks.

“No. No.”

It’s the only thing I can seem to say. I can’t seem to find the words to describe what happened, to explain to Tia and Cato that I didn’t want to, that I didn’t want to kill him, to let them down…

But I can only repeat “No” in a hoarse, broken whisper of despair, staring down at my hands, covered in blood and gore.

_I am going to slowly drive you mad, and make your life a living hell, and then I’m going to kill you when you’re nothing but a broken shell of who you are now and are begging me for death._

I remember now.

Lilith said that.

I don’t know when or where, but she’s the one who said it.

“No” is replaced by “Lilith”.

I feel someone come up behind me. I flinch away from them, only half unwillingly.

“Persephone…”

Cato’s voice, sounding sad and lost and a shitload of other things that I don’t recognize.

It forces me to look over my shoulder at him.

“I don’t want to kill you, too,” I whisper brokenly, the sad look on his face like a knife to the heart.

“Perse-”

I cut Tia off.

“You two should never have come here. You should just leave me to rot in that cell, all alone. You should leave me to die,” I murmur sadly, turning back to George’s dead body.

I hear the shuffling of footsteps, but I don’t feel anyone come closer to me.

“Perse, you are goin’ ta turn that stubborn ass o’ yours ‘round an look at me,” Tia growls.

I do as she told, staring up at her pissed-off face.

“If you knew me at all, you’d know that there ain’t no way in hell I'ma let you talk your way out of escapin’ wit us, and even if ya don’t wanna, I'ma drag ya outta this buildin’ wit me if a gotta. So ya gonna come willingly, or nah?”

I smile grimly at her. “Tia, you don’t have to do this.”

She smirks at me. “It’s called bein’ an Osset, Perse. An’ bein’ an Osset, I gotta do.”

“Yea, yea, your lovey-dovey shit is making me wanna barf. Move it along, lovebirds! The authorities are gonna be here any second now!”

Willow’s voice seems to dump a bucket of ice-water on all of us. She gestures from down the hall for us to follow her.

And yet, even with the urgency, I hesitate.

“A-Are you guys sure?” I stutter unsurely, glancing briefly at George’s glowering corpse.

Tia smiles reassuringly at me, gesturing for me to follow her. “You is wit us now, Perse.”


	35. |34|

It’s night, outside.

It’s beautiful.

As soon as I get outside, I spend about five minutes just marveling at how utterly amazing the night sky looks, how different everything looks under the light of the moon…

“Uh… Perse, you’re awesome an' all, but you’re kinda in da way right now.”

Tia’s voice coming from behind me snaps me back to the reality of things.

We are escaping. Right. Way to go, Persephone.

So I move out of the way and turn to Tia.

“So… Now what?”

Once again, I feel like a complete idiot.

Cato answers me instead. “Kaleb took the kids into the woods.”

I sigh. “Great. Now we just have to go get ourselves lost in the fucking forest, and…”

“Holy shit!” Tia whisper-shouts.

I shoot her a _what-the-hell_ look.

“Will? Trees? Forests? _Terror?_ ” Tia splutters, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh,” I answer intelligently.

“Where is she, then? I thought she was right in front of us.”

Right now, Cato seems to be the voice of logic.

Tia would be that chick who runs into trouble with a smile on her face, screaming “Hallelujah!”

As for me?

I’m that ignorant idiot who stands there the whole time with that glorious “eh?” look on their face.

“I don’t know… I don’t see her…” Tia mutters.

“Well, it is kinda… oh… I don’t know… _night_ ,” I whisper sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

So, I’m the sarcastic one who stands there with that glorious “eh?” look on my face.

“I love ya, Perse, but ya ain’t helpin’,” Tia shoots back, sounding worried as hell.

“Well… It’s not like she could’ve gone far, right?” I try to reassure her, glancing around nervously.

The cops could round the corner any second now, and we’re all screwed.

“Tia, we have to go. The cops could show up any second,” Cato reasons, oddly echoing my thoughts.

Maybe he can read minds…

That would mean that he can hear what I’m thinking right now.

Shit!

Quick, think of something else!

Err… Cats! I like cats!

“Persephone? Why do you have a weird look on your face?”

“ _No-reason_! I mean… uh… _Let's-go-now_!”

Smooth, Persephone. Smooth.

“But what about Will?!” Tia insists.

And then it finally seems to sink in.

Willow…

She helped me get out of here.

She deserves to come, too.

And so I make the decision right then and there:

I am going to get Willow. No matter what it takes.

“Tia, you and Cato go meet up with the others. I’ll go get Willow.”

They both stare at me as if I just told them that I’m Batman.

“No, Perse. We went through this much; we ain’t losin’ ya now. I’ll go.”

I sigh. “That’s just it, Tia. You’ve sacrificed so much for me; it’s about time I repay you for all you’ve done.”

“She’s right, Tia. Let her do this,” Cato softly agrees, smiling at me and placing his hand on Tia’s shoulder.

A flash of jealousy shoots through me, but I shove it down.

I need to save Willow. That’s the priority.

And there is no going back.

I turn from Tia and Cato and start jogging, planning to go around the building in search for her.

Tia calls out a “Good luck!”, and I turn my head to watch them walk into the forest.

Now, there’s no going back.


	36. |35|

It feels like I’m walking the path between life and death.

The wild life of the forest on my right, and the cold death of the prison on my left.

The smell of rain weighs down the air, accented by the slight trace of smoke.

Is there a fire somewhere?

“Jesus Christ, did the penguins start a fire?” I wonder aloud, chuckling to myself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” someone hisses from nearby, scaring the living shit out of me.

“Err… Says who?” I shoot back.

For once, I said something more-or-less intelligent.

“Says me. Now go with the others, Persephone. I’ll be fine here on my own.”

“Willow.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I know that it’s her.

“Look, Willow, you guys went through so much trouble to get me out of there. Hell, you even had to _convince me_ to leave. There’s no way I’m going to leave any of you here alone when the cops could show up any second.”

“The cops won’t bother me.”

We both know that’s a lie.

“Willow, I’m probably a wanted fugitive by now. You’ll be wanted for being in line with me.”

She sighs.

“Don’t you understand, Persephone? I can’t. I can’t go in that forest. Even just looking at it now, the only thing I see is…”

“Look, Willow.”

I sigh, walking over to the barrel that seems to be emanating the sound of her voice and slip in behind it.

Just as I thought, Willow crouches there, smoking something that looks like a cigarette but doesn’t quite smell like one.

Wait, how do I know what a cigarette smells like?

“We all have to face our fears at some point. It’s a given. I guess it just means that you have to face yours before anybody else. It’s not like you can know when these things happen; they just do, and you can either face it, or crawl into a corner for the rest of your life. Look, you aren’t alone; you have, what, fourteen other kids out there willing to help you? Tia will help you, Cato will help you, Kaleb will help you… I’ll help you.”

Willow sighs, staring at the ground.

“I was fourteen when he found me.”

“Willow, you don’t have to-”

She cuts me off.

“If you’re going to watch me scream and cry in a forest, you deserve to know why.”

That shuts me up.

“His name was Silas Jackson. Couple of years older than me, but he didn’t care, so neither did I. In fact, he would be eighteen now. Two years older than me. Anyway, he just seemed like some regular, average teenage boy.

“He made it pretty obvious the first day we met that he was interested in something more than friendship. At the time, I wasn’t looking for any romantic relationship with anybody, but he intrigued me somehow.

“So I agreed to go on a date with him. We had the best time, I will tell you that; but now, I know that the whole entire time, he was pretending to be someone he’s not. He had been super nice, generous, had even listened to me rant about my overprotective father, who had almost kept me from going on the date in the first place.”

Willow looks up, staring me right in the eyes as she continues.

“I wish he’d have done a better job at keeping me boarded up in that house.”

She looks back down at her knees, taking a long puff from her not-cigarette.

“That night, I had been lead hopelessly into believing that I’d found my one and only love, my soul mate, all of that bullshit. So when he’d asked me if I would go with him to a football game, I said yes.

“I remember the day perfectly. It was a Saturday, a cloudy Saturday, even though they weren’t announcing any rain until the next day. I had sneaked out of the house, not wanting to be held back by my father again, and was waiting for him in the forest surrounding my house. He picked me up in his black Mercedes, tinted windows and all.

“He didn’t lie to me about the football game; we went, watched the game. But I could tell even then that something was off about him; he seemed more distant. But I was an idiot, and I ignored the sense of foreboding that was telling me to run the hell away.

“One of his buddies came over to us at the end of the game with a grocery bag. He took us to the edge of the woods ringing the arena before opening the bag.

“Marijuana. That was what was in the bag.

“They both started smoking the shit, and I was just standing there, an innocent little dove surrounded by rattlesnakes.

“The other guy, Jett, his name was, wanted to know why I was there. He didn’t want me ratting them out, he said.

“So Silas turned to me and offered me this little cigarette-shaped thingy packed with marijuana. He said that if I didn’t take it, he would leave me, and at the time he was the center of my universe.

“So I took the marijuana. After some coaxing from the two older boys, I smoked it. The whole thing.

“When we left, I remember Silas bending down, whispering in my ear. ‘You did a good job today,’ he said.

“I didn’t know what he meant at the time.

“Within the next few days after that, he had me completely wrapped around his dirty little fingers.

“He had me addicted to the marijuana, and even worse than that, he had me addicted to his presence.

“I’m embarrassed to say that I trailed him like a lost puppy, and always looked to him for answers.

“He invited me over on a Friday night. It had been almost a week since we’d met.

“The worst part was, there was a part of me, the softer part of me, that was in love with him, that wanted to help him.

“So we went to his apartment.

“It was neat and tidy, but now I know that he probably just cleaned it up before I went there.

“We didn’t stay there long, though.

“He grabbed his jacket, a grocery bag of marijuana, and he brought me to a forest, a good 45 minute drive from the city.

“We smoked a bit, talked a bit, and then, out of the blue, ‘Come here, Willow.’

“Of course, I obeyed.

“He started kissing me, and I was surprised; we hadn’t kissed much. I know, it’s a weird thing to notice, but it’s one of those couple-y things that couples are supposed to do. This kiss, though, was rough, and I didn’t like it.

“Of course, I was a clueless idiot, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t high-tail it the hell out of there like every single part of me was telling me to.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I had it coming.”

She squeezes her eyes shut against the memory.

“Willow, it’s okay. You do-”

“No, Persephone. I have to.”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, silent tears trickling down her cheeks, the marijuana-cigarette having burned down to a little stub.

“I remember it just like it was yesterday. It was already pitch black outside, and I remember the way the moonlight contorted his face into that of a demon, which should have sent more of a warning than it did.

“He backed me up against a tree.

“I remember the way his eyes bore into mine, the way his sneer turned him into another being entirely. ‘Now, you be a good little girl, Willow, and don’t scream.’

“He was rough, ripping my clothes off, biting and scratching me as he pleased. Oh, I can still feel his hands creeping all over me. I will never forget it.

“He raped me brutally, binding my arms and legs around the tree so I wouldn’t struggle, gagging me so I couldn’t scream.

“I don’t know how long it lasted, but every single minute of it was hell. There was blood everywhere, and he was everywhere, laughing in my face at how stupid I was to ever trust him.

“When his lust was finally satisfied, he left me, bound to a tree, bleeding all over the forest floor.

“I couldn’t scream for help, could barely even breathe; I think he’d broken a couple of my ribs. I tried to twist my hands around, tried to untie myself, but one of my wrists was broken, and it hurt so much to move, so I couldn’t.

“Eventually, after crying my eyes dry, I fell unconscious, the exhaustion taking over.

“I was woken up the next morning by a worried policeman.

“I remember screaming and thrashing against my bonds at the sight of a man, praying silently to all of the gods that exist that he hadn’t come to satiate his pleasure, too.

“I remember a policewoman pushing him aside, remember her calming voice, how she helped me out of the bonds, tried to coax the story out of me.

“She gave me clothes; the ones I’d had on last night were shredded, and tainted with his touch. I refused to so much as look at them.

“After washing the feel of his hands off me and gobbling down three grilled cheese sandwiches, I’d told the policewoman what had happened.

“They searched for Silas, but some of the people from school had heard that he’d blown town last night.

“I’d returned to my father, crying and sobbing that he’d been right all along.

“I refused to leave the house, watching the forest surrounding it from my window every night, waiting for him to come out and do it all over again.

“My father eventually had enough, and that was when I was sent to the stupid mental hospital.

“Every time I so much as think of a fucking tree, I remember that night.”

I sit there, speechless.

Looking at Willow now, I could never imagine her being weak and gullible. Hell, I can’t even see her hugging a kitten, let alone making out with a guy she thought to be the love of her life.

I grab her hand, something deep inside of me giving me the right words. I smile at her.

“If some psychopath bastard attacks us tonight, I’ll beat the shit out of him, okay? Now come on.”

Willow laughs, smiles, and wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Only if I can help beat him up.”

We share a smile.

“I’d be honored to fight by your side, young warrior,” I say with a little half-bow, pulling her to her feet.

“As would I, young warrior,” she answers, mimicking my half-bow.


	37. |36|

“Hey! Guys? Where are you?”

Finding them is not turning out to be the most practical thing in the world.

I mean, the forest is everywhere. They could be anywhere. And we’re just two people, trying to find sixteen people in a never-ending forest.

How the hell is this going to work?

“Tia? Kaleb? Cato? ... _Anybody?_ ” I shout at the top of my lungs, cupping my hands over my mouth to amplify my voice.

“Oi! Where'd you guys go?” Willow echoes.

She sounds worried, and terrified.

I sigh, close my eyes. There is not going to be any easy way to say this.

“Willow, I think we have to go find them. In the forest.”

“What? No, we can’t… We…”

Her words are cut off by a broken sob. Even she knows that it’s hopeless; we have to go.

“I’ll be right here,” I whisper reassuringly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Willow sobs again, but nods, squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds, and when she opens them, she takes a determined step towards the forest.

I follow her, watching her closely in case she starts to freak out.

And if she does start to freak out, I’ll be right here.

“Come on, Willow. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I murmur, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her slowly towards the forest.


	38. |37|

She only starts screaming once we’re about five feet deep in the trees.

Overall, I’m really proud of her.

Tears stream down her cheeks, as they have been ever since she came within sight of the forest. Sobs and screams rip through her throat, staining the air, slicing through the calm darkness, echoing through the woods like a whisper of a monster from the past. The forest is hushed, the trees seeming to loom down on us as if listening to Willow’s sad song, the branches leaning down like arms extended, trying to soothe the un-soothe-able.

And I cling to her, acting as her sole anchor to the horrible world, fighting back the shadow that is memory that threatens to overwhelm her with every step taken.

“Come on, Willow! You can do this!”

I only realize now that I’m crying, too.

Crying because I can feel it, too.

The pain.

It hangs in the air, suspended amongst the dust motes and rasping breaths, casting its shadow over the world outside like a curtain, its smoke choking up our warmth and leaving us bare in this world of shadow and darkness that it has created.

It doesn’t just hang over Willow.

It hangs over me, too.

The shadow of a broken past, of a darkened future. It hangs over all of us, all of the penguin kids.

The place where hope once shone brightly, now shrouded in shadows and the ghost of painful memories.

But I’m going to change that.

I vow it now, at this place in time, with the trees bearing witness to the screams of my newest friend, with the shadows of my own past echoing in my skull like the call of a long-lost friend.

I swear it on my very own life, on all of the lives that I’ve killed, on all of the lives that I will kill, that I will be the hope in the lives of these forsaken kids.

Even if it’s the last thing I do.


	39. |38|

“Perse? Will?”

That voice.

It echoes around the forest, chasing away the shadows and darkness that threatened to consume us only seconds before.

It lights the slightest spark of hope in Willow’s eyes, in her voice.

“Tia,” she cries out in relief.

I smile. “Willow, you did it!”

She sobs, smiling so widely it looks like her face is about to split in two. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did!”

Wait, I didn’t say that.

A figure pops up out of the bushes, racing towards us like a bullet.

“Will-you-did-it-I'm-so-proud-of-you!”

And then we’re tackled by a very excited Tia.

“You-did-it-you-did-it-you-did-it-you-did-it!” she chants joyfully, smiling like a five year old on Christmas morning. 

“I-did-I-did-I-did!” Willow laughs, tears of joy slipping down her already tear-stained cheeks.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?”

Tia groans, releases us, gets up, and turns around in about point five seconds.

“Way to ruin tha damn moment, Cattie!”

“Cato-I-did-it!”

I have never seen anybody look this happy. Willow is pretty much screaming her victory to the whole entire universe.

Okay, maybe not. But if she could, I bet you she would.

“Cato? Tia? What the he-?”

“Shut up, Kal!”

Kaleb stumbles out of the bushes, his eyes wide.

“W… Willow…”

She smiles at him. “Kaleb, I did it. I’m not afraid anymore.”


	40. |39|

Cato leads us to the camp.

Don’t ask me how the penguin kids got all of the damn camping equipment, but they did.

Kaleb and Willow stayed back. Kaleb said he wanted to talk to her. In private.

Whatever the hell that means.

“Hey, guys! Look who’s back!”

Cato sounds like he’s announcing the arrival of a queen.

Excited whispers travel throughout the crowd of penguin kids that I am now a part of. One bleached-blonde head bobs away from the group, towards me.

Alistair smiles widely at me. “You made it!”

I smirk. “You didn’t really think a couple of hot-shot bad guys would take me down, did you?”

He giggles. There is no other way to describe it.

“Where’s Willow? Kaleb?”

The voice is slightly cold, untrusting. It comes from a tall guy with messy red hair.

And when I say red, I mean red. Fire engine red.

Is that a natural color? If not, how the hell did he get the dye, if he’s in a mental institute?

“Give her a goddamn break, Rowland. Kaleb wanted to talk to Willow before bringing her here. Is that okay with you?” Cato snaps, glowering at the kid.

I’m surprised he didn’t piss himself.

“Oh, so now you think you own this place, Wilkinson? You’re just a rebellious 17-year-old idiot who’s been given the illusion of authority,” Red-Headed Asshole sneers, scowling down at Cato.

Hell, he could scowl down at anyone.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t care who the hell you are, but you have no fucking right to talk to anyone like that. I suggest you back the fuck off, asshole, before something bad happens,” I rebuke calmly, my voice cutting through the air like a razorblade.

The calm kind of anger is the most terrifying kind.

“Oh, not you, too. The little bitch who kills someone every five seconds thinks that she can tell me what to do?” he snarls, turning on me.

“Okay, that's it!”

I look to Cato, then to Tia. Both of them look equally confused.

“Dash, if you still want a place in this goddamn group, then I suggest you back the fuck away from them. _Now._ ”

Kaleb bursts in through the bushes ringing the clearing, shooting lasers out of his eyes.

Okay, maybe not, but it’s pretty damn close.

Dash the Ass immediately backs away, his eyes wide with fear.

Kaleb stomps right up to him and pushes him farther away from us.

“Persephone is one of us now, and if you can’t accept that, then _get the fuck out of here_ ,” Kaleb spits in his face.

He looks like he’s trying to refrain from punching Dash the Ass. I wish he wouldn’t.

Dash meets his gaze for a couple of seconds, then hangs his head shamefully and shuffles away with his tail in between his legs.

Not that he’s got a tail, but hey. You get the idea.

Somebody places a hand on my shoulder.

“Holy sh-” I blurt, jumping about five feet in the air.

Okay, maybe not five feet.

“It’s just me, Persephone,” Willow chuckles.

“Oh, thank God…”

She laughs.

It’s music to my ears, to hear her to happy.

“It’s official now, Persephone. Everyone knows.”

I frown. “What’s official?”

I can hear the grin in her voice.

“You’re one of us now, Persephone. For real. And there’s no going back.”


	41. |40|

We’re sitting around a campfire, the fire crackling peacefully, the flames casting shadows of yellow-orange light on everyone’s faces. The smoke dances in the sky, seeming just as happy to be free as us.

“So… Now what?” Tia asks awkwardly, leaning forward on her little log-bench-thingy.

Everyone laughs.

Well, almost everyone.

Dash the Ass is off in a corner, licking his wounds.

I see Willow take a deep breath and close her eyes.

“I think it’s time you guys know something.”

All eyes are on her.

She opens her eyes, looking from one person to another before continuing.

“I think you guys deserve to know why it was so hard for me to get here.”

Oh.

“Persephone knows what happened, and now Kaleb, too. But I think you all should know.”

Tia cracks a sad smile. “Only if you wanna say, Will.”

Willow grins. “I do.”

And so Willow tells the story again, for the second… third? She said Kaleb knew too, right? Yeah, so third time tonight.

And she doesn’t cry once. Not that I’m all that surprised; I think she’s run out of tears for a few weeks, at least. If not, then a couple of months.

A couple of the other penguin kids cry, though. Silently. As if they, like me, could feel her pain from that night.

Okay, for some of them, at least.

I think the chick with curly auburn hair is just crying because she’s afraid of something that Willow is saying. Must be the panophobe.

Even she doesn’t make a sound, though, as if they're all afraid that a single noise of sadness will unleash the demons of their pasts down on them.

If so, I don’t blame them for thinking that way.


	42. |41|

I’m the first one to wake up in the morning.

I faintly remember last night, the conversation around the fire. We talked about Willow’s past, which she was surprisingly open about, and then I’d wanted to know where they’d gotten all of the camping equipment (they stole it before leaving) and then it was just random conversation.

Tia is sprawled out in her sleeping bag, arms thrown up and head leaned back. Her mouth gapes open.

Cato’s sleeping bag, which is right next to mine (Tia’s is on the other side) is empty.

I guess I’m not the first one to wake up.

I slowly slip out of the bag, freezing in place when I hear Tia grumble something unintelligible and roll over, closing her mouth with a grumble.

I sigh, rising to my feet and walking off. After all, he couldn’t have gone too far, could he?

Sidestepping the unconscious bodies of penguin kids is a lot harder than I thought it would be, though. I feel like some kind of lopsided imitation of a ballerina.

I somehow make it to the edge of the forest, though. Don’t ask me how. I don’t even fall on my face or anything.

I know, I was shocked, too.

“Cato!” I whisper-shout, glancing nervously over at the penguin kids.

A couple of groans, someone rolls over. Nobody wakes up.

I sigh in relief.

“Persephone? What are you doing up so early?” Cato’s voice scares the shit out of me.

“Cato! What the hell, man! You scared the shit out of me!” I hiss under my breath, glancing around in an attempt to try and find him.

He pops up right next to me, once again scaring the shit out of me.

“ _Stop doing that!_ ” I growl, receiving a few groans from sleeping penguin kids in response.

Cato laughs silently, gesturing for me to follow him into the woods.

I do. I mean, hey; what else am I supposed to do?

So I trade stumbling over and around penguin kids for stumbling over and around tree roots and branches and rocks and a whole bunch of other shit that nature decides to throw at me.

“Why are you up so early?” Cato asks again, glancing at me curiously.

Seriously, how is he not tripping?

“I always woke up early back in… Hell. I guess it’s kind of a habit.”

I shrug. He frowns.

“Habit? What do you mean? You had to wake up early?”

It’s my turn to frown.

“Well, yeah. They woke me up around 7 all the time, but sometimes I was up earlier. I guess I’m just used to it. What, they didn’t wake you guys up early?”

He shakes his head, smirks at something that I can’t see.

“You really were a special case, weren’t you?”

I sigh.

“I guess I was, Cato. I just wish I knew why.”


	43. |42|

When we get back to the camp, everyone is stirring.

Not awake. 

_Stirring._

“Seriously, how the hell do you people sleep in so late,” I exclaim, throwing my arms up.

Cato just laughs.

“Oi, we ain’t all special like you, Persephone.”

“Willow! Geez, you keep popping up and scaring the shit out of me! Actually, you all keep popping up and scaring the shit out of me! What the hell is going on here?”

Now both Willow and Cato are laughing.

“Geez, could you three keep it down?! I’m trying to sleep here…”

Willow rolls her eyes.

“Oh, get your lazy ass out of that damn sleeping bag, Kal.”

I can see the faintest trace of a smile on her face as she watches Kaleb roll over and hug his pillow a little tighter.

“But Will…”

“Oi, don’t make me come get you…”

He smiles, his eyes still closed.

“What if I want you to come get me?”

Willow laughs.

She seems so happy, so free.

She pounces on Kaleb, laughing joyfully.

Feeling out of place, I back away. Cato follows me; I guess he felt like he was intruding, too.

“So… What’s for breakfast?” I ask awkwardly.

Cato chuckles.

But somebody else answers.

“Well, when them two is done cookin’ up their romance, we can have some real grub.”

Tia rises to her feet, smiling.

“An' if you two is done cookin’ up your romance, then we can start lookin’ for grub.”


	44. |43|

Cato.

Just. Cato.

What.

Is.

Happening.

“H-Hey! We weren’t-” Cato splutters, his face completely and entirely beet red.

“Why would we-?” I add, staring down at my feet in the hopes of hiding my burning face.

“Oh, shut up. You both know what was happenin’ here. Now come on; we got some grub that needs gettin’.”

“Right! Food! Let’s go, um… food,” I cough awkwardly, making sure that my hair hangs in between me and Cato.

“Yes, food,” Cato agrees hastily, clearing his throat and downright refusing to look at me at all, preferring to stare at the ground.

“Ah, you cutesy little lovebirds. This is sweet an' all, but let’s get a move on, aright? Food. We is hungry. So we is gonna get food, got it?” Tia chuckles.

“Yes! I’ll go, um, over… There…,” I mumble, pointing in a random direction.

Tia gives me an _eh?_ look over her shoulder.

“Perse, you is gonna look for grub back at camp?”

“No! I meant, uh… Over there!”

I point instead to the nearest thicket of bushes, before diving headfirst into them.

And then wondering why the hell I did that.

“That chick is downright crazy,” I hear Tia mutter, before I also hear her and Cato walk away.

I put my head in my hands, suddenly grateful for the cover of the thicket of bushes.

“Oh, Persephone, just what the hell have you gotten yourself in to?”


	45. |44|

I head back to camp after about five minutes of wallowing in self-pity.

What can I say? I got bored.

Neither Tia or Cato are there (phew).

Kaleb and Willow are sitting by the newly built campfire, Kaleb ordering the other kids around while Willow just sits there and stares into the fire.

But that’s not the weird part.

Kaleb’s arm.

Is around. 

Willow.

...What?

“What’s going on?”

I’m hoping that she takes the hint at what I’m talking about, but she doesn’t.

“The kids are packing up. Tia and Cato have gone to get food, we’ll eat, and then we’ll start trekking.”

I frown.

“...Trekking where?”

Kaleb answers this time.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s far away from there.”

He points in the general direction of the mental institute.

I nod.

“Good plan.”

He cracks a smile at that. It makes him look a lot less strict, when he smiles.

“So, what’s going on here? Because if you ask me, it’s pretty clear that there’s something going on here.”

I cross my arms, raising my eyebrows and looking from one to the other, waiting for an answer.

Kaleb flushes, looks away. Willow smiles, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” she laughs, closing her eyes contentedly.

Kaleb looks to her, grins.

“Maybe, eh?”

Willow chuckles, opening one eye to look at him.

“Maybe.”


	46. |45|

“Oi, it’s about time you get back,” Willow calls out.

Tia and Cato are teetering towards us, piles of berries and nuts balanced precariously in their arms.

“Well, sorry. Tia got sidetracked.”

I will not look at him.

I swear.

I will not look at him.

If it takes everything I have, I will not look at him.

“Oh, yea? What did she find this time?”

“A shiny rock. Thought it was gold.”

Nope.

Not looking.

I will not look at him.

I will stare at the ground for the rest of my life if I have to.

“Ey, you never know; maybe it was gold! If I hadn’t'a checked, we could 'a missed a chance ta be _rich_!”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

No.

I can’t.

Look.

Must.

Not.

Look.

“Perse? You okay?”

I look up.

Godfuckingdamnit.

“Huh?” I answer intelligently.

Tia’s got an eyebrow raised.

“You is starin’ down at the ground like it’s gonna save ya or somethin’. You okay there?”

“Uh… Yeah. Peachy.”

She gives me that _you-have-so-not-convinced-me_ look, but doesn’t question me any further.

“Ey, kiddies! Grub’s bein’ served up right now!” she yells, dumping her load of berries and nuts into a pot that Kaleb holds out for her.

They got a pot, too?

Damn, they’re good.

“Perse, could you get that there pot so Cattie-o can dump his grub?”

I freeze.

Okay, Persephone.

Act natural.

I grab the pot and woodenly hold it out to Cato, staring down at my knees as if they’re the most interesting things on this planet.

I feel Cato dump the berries and nuts into the pot, so I put it down.

“P...Persephone?”

I can’t stop myself this time.

I look up.

“T… Th…”

He clears his throat.

“Thanks.”

Somehow, I have a feeling that he’s not talking about the pot.


	47. |46|

I don’t know what kind of berries these are, or what kind of nuts these are, but they are fabulous.

They are the most fabulous things on this planet right now.

I mean, sure, anything would taste good compared to the pig slop I’ve been eating for almost my whole life.

But still.

Random berries + random nuts = fabulousness.

Simple.

“Where did you find this stuff?”

Tia laughs.

“On a random bush. And them nuts? I have no fuckin’ clue. Ask Cattie.”

She shoves a handful of berries into her mouth.

I think we all have a nice big bluish smear on our faces.

Al looks like a fucking smurf.

Wait, how do I know what a smurf is?

…?

Don’t think about it.

“Yeah, it doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

Tia slams her hands down on the table.

“Oh, come on, Perse. I ain’t no idiot. What the hell is going on? Really?”

I sigh, placing my head in my hand as I poke at a little berry.

“I wish I knew, Tia. I wish I knew.”


	48. |47|

We set out about five minutes after everyone’s done eating.

Literally. It takes ten seconds to pack everything up.

And then we’re off, heading in whatever random direction Kaleb pointed at first.

Hopefully, we’re not heading back towards Hell. That would suck.

And then, as if to add on to the pain, Dash the Ass decides that he’s going to walk beside me.

“What the hell do you want?” I snap, glaring at him from out of the corner of my eye.

“Watch your mouth, you prissy little princess,” he growls, scowling at me.

“I asked you a goddamn question, you asshole!” I snarl coldly.

“Fine, bitch. I want to warn you; I still don’t trust you. It’s going to take a lot more than a fancy little trick with Willow to get me to trust you.”

And then he walks away.

And I enjoy myself cursing him with the use of extremely colorful language, hoping that he can hear me.

Even if he does, I don’t think he’ll care. He’s just that heartless.

“Hey, Persephone, you okay?”

I freeze mid-curse.

It can’t be him.

Please don’t let it be him.

I turn my head slightly, and sure enough, there he is.

Staring down at his feet.

His hands in his pockets.

I cough awkwardly, quickly looking away.

“Uh, yeah. Just, uh… Peachy.”

The lie tastes sour in my mouth, but I somehow manage to spit it out anyway.

Cato sighs.

“Persephone, can I… talk to you?”

His voice.

It’s quiet, vulnerable, as if he expects me to whirl around and slap him across the face and send him to hell.

I can’t say no to that voice.

“Yeah,” I give in with a sigh, closing my eyes.

Cato jogs up to my side, then slows down to match my pace.

He takes a deep breath before saying anything.

“Persephone, are you… mad… about what Tia said?”

I frown.

“No. Why would I be?”

He laughs nervously.

“Well, you’ve kind of been… uh… ignoring me…”

I open my mouth to deny it, but the lie won’t come.

Actually, when I think about it, I have been ignoring him. Just because of something that Tia said that isn’t even true.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Cato. I was being an idiot.”

I can hear the slightest trace of a smile in his voice.

“It’s okay, Persephone.”

“Can we still be friends?”

I sound like a five-year-old.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	49. |48|

I never could have predicted what happened next.

It happened so fast.

There was nothing anybody could do about it.

Not me, or Tia, or Willow or Cato or Kaleb.

We never saw it coming.

But we should have.

Everything was calm.

Cato and I were walking in companionable silence.

Tia was giving me suggestive looks, waggling her eyebrows and everything.

Kaleb and Willow were acting all lovey-dovey, and I was happy for them.

The kids were clearly happy, too. Laughing, random little play-fights breaking out here and there.

And then all hell broke loose.


	50. |49|

It started with gunshots.

Like all hellish moments do.

Kaleb’s voice.

It booms through the sudden madness, piercing my skull with the clarity of desperation.

“ _RUN!_ ”

That one word.

It turns everything from slow-motion to panicked fast-forward mode, like someone was skipping forward in a movie.

Our movie.

And it’s going way too fast.

I turn around, but it seems too slow.

Everyone seems to be moving too slow.

Another gunshot.

I throw myself down on the ground.

The ringing in my ears drowns out the screaming, leaving me with the clarity of thought.

I have to get out of here.

I grab the two people nearest to me and yank them to their feet, dragging them after me as I run off in a random direction.

Anywhere is fine.

Just not here.

Here is chaos and gunshots, here is panic and desperation.

Here is not knowing what’s going on.

I bolt through the crowd, my feet barely skimming the ground.

Everything flies by in a blur, passing by in a flurry of colors that run together and bleed out.

And still, I run.

I run, and I won’t stop until I can’t hear the gunshots anymore.

Somebody stumbles after us, latching on to one of my burdens and yanking them (I don’t even know if it’s a he or a she) away from me.

I turn to punch them in the face, but it’s Tia.

A smear of mud colors her face, but she’s okay.

A couple of scrapes and bruises, but she’s okay.

Eyes wide with fear and panic, but she’s okay.

And we run.


	51. |50|

“Persephone! Where are we going?”

Tia’s voice.

It cuts through the ringing in my ears.

It takes a couple of seconds to process what she says, the ringing distorting the syllables in a strange, alienated way.

“I don’t know!”

We keep running.

My lungs are burning and I can’t feel my legs, but we keep running.

Because we can still hear gunshots.

“Cato, stop letting Perse drag you! You've got legs; use them, goddamn it!” Tia hounds, pulling the other burden (it’s a girl) to her feet after she stumbles.

“Tia, _shut up_!” I yell sharply, and much louder than I’d intended.

The only sound now is our ragged breathing.

And footsteps.

Except they aren’t ours.

And they’re coming from behind us.

I let go of Cato.

“Run!”

I whirl around to face our follower, but Tia grabs me by the arm and pulls me after her.

“No, Perse!”

Tears of frustration stream down her face.

I’m transfixed by them.

“I ain't losing you now, so you don't stop runnin'. I don't care if you think you saw your mama, you ain't stoppin'. _I ain't losin' ya, not after all this, goddamn it!_ ”

I can’t say no to that.

So I keep running.

And then.

The cracking.

Of a gunshot.

Fired in our direction.

Way too close for comfort.

I throw myself on the ground.

Dragging Tia with me.

The world seems to be made of

Fragments.

But then.

A scream of pain.

And everything snaps back into place.

With a painful jerk.


	52. |51|

I’ll admit it.

I was relieved when the scream of pain didn’t belong to Tia or Cato.

And I feel like a complete bitch for allowing myself to be relieved, even for a second.

Because someone was still shot.

Even though it wasn’t Tia or Cato.

And I should still be worried.

But somehow, I’m not.

The panicked fragments of thought from before has been replaced by the calmness of a rage so gargantuan that it can’t be tamed by yelling and screaming and violence.

I rise calmly to my feet, leaving a surprised Tia on the ground.

“You.”

My voice is like steel.

It cuts through the air, silencing the ringing in my ears suddenly and inexplicably.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. Come with us, and everything will be fine.”

“Bullshit.”

The man speaks again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. We are going to take you back.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Perse… Don’t do this…”

It’s Tia.

There’s no hope in her voice, or in her eyes.

She knows that they will have to kill me to stop me.

“I have to, Tia. Dash wanted some proof? Well, here it is.”


	53. |52|

I’m just standing there, staring at the man.

And then the next second, I’m kicking him in the stomach like some black-belt karate master.

I don’t know how I did it, either.

He doubles over with a gasp, clutching his stomach and dropping his gun, which I grab.

And the whole time, I’m as calm as a cucumber.

On the outside.

On the inside, I’m cussing like there’s no tomorrow, and kicking everything in sight.

I’m still calm when I press the barrel of the gun to his temple.

“What’s your name, officer?”

He gulps, a dribble of sweat streaking down from his brow.

“Kevin Cranston.”

My grip on the gun tightens.

“Well, Kevin, you have two options here.”

He nods slightly, his eyes closing.

“You can either give up this stupid mission of yours and come out of this alive, or insist on bringing us back, and I kill you right here, right now.”

Another audible gulp.

He averts his eyes from me, staring at the ground intensely.

My knuckles are white, my grip on that gun is so tight.

“Well? What’s it gonna be?” I hiss through clenched teeth.

He pales.

“Please, honey, let me just take you back… You’ll be safe, and-”

The gunshot echoes throughout the trees.

Kevin lets out a choked gasp, then crumples at my feet.

I drop the gun like it’s on fire.

My hands reach up to cover my mouth in an attempt to hide my grimace of horror.

“I killed him,” I mutter to myself, as if admitting it out loud might take it back. “I really killed him.”

“...Perse?”

I turn around.

And Tia.

Her face is drawn in utter horror.

“It’s me.”

A single tear trickles down her cheek.

“You killed him.”

“I killed him.”

And I bury my face in my hands with a sob.


	54. |53|

“Why? How? _Why?_ Why, Perse, why…?”

“I don’t know.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

I’m starting to think I don’t know anything.

Why did I do it?

I was angry.

More than angry.

I was enraged beyond belief.

But did I really have to shoot him?

I didn’t.

But I did.

I didn’t even think about it.

I just pulled the trigger, and he was gone.

Out like a light.

One simple twitch of a finger, and his fire was snuffed out.

And Lilith didn’t do it this time.

I did.

And I swear it now, on the lives of those I care about.

I will never do it again, no matter what.


	55. |54|

Another gunshot.

This time, not mine.

It snaps us out of our hellish reverie.

Cato’s voice tumbles through the fog in my mind.

“Persephone, run!”

I gasp.

Red pain.

In my shoulder.

_Run._

I turn around, my hand reaching up to grab at my shoulder as if trying to take away the pain, and I stumble forward before breaking into a run.

Tia follows me soon after, to my relief.

She keeps glancing back at Kevin’s dead body.

In her hand, she holds the gun.

The gun I used to shoot him.

The gun he used to shoot the other girl.

“Hey! Where’s that other girl?” I yell to Tia over the sound of another gunshot.

“She’s with Cato!”

We run over to Cato.

Everything is moving too slowly, like the world has been submerged in a thick syrup.

I keep waiting for a bullet to hit.

But it doesn’t happen.

Cato is crouched next to a girl with mud-caked auburn hair.

The girl’s chest just barely rises and falls, marking her ragged breaths.

“Where was she hit?” Tia gasps.

Cato just stares at her, glassy-eyed.

“She’s not going to make it,” he answers woodenly, staring unseeingly back down at the girl.

“No.”

Tia looks up at me, tears in her eyes.

“Perse, she’s going to die. There’s nothing we can do.”

“There's always something we can do,” I shriek, my last word choking off with a sob.

Tia grabs me by the shoulders, staring me right in the eyes.

“Not this time, Perse. Thea is gonna die, and there ain’t nothin we can do but be there.”


	56. |55|

We all crouch around this Thea’s dying body.

Her eyes are open, and wide like a deer’s.

And they’re turquoise.

Not blue, and not green.

Turquoise.

They’re the only bright thing about her, with her hair tangled and dirty, face smudged with dirt, clothes in tatters.

We all must look like that.

Like cavemen.

No, not like cavemen.

Like survivors.

“Ca...to?” she croaks, her wide eyes flickering in our direction nervously.

“It’s okay, Althea. It’s just Tia and Persephone.”

Oh. So it isn’t Thea.

“Where is it? Where’s the wound?”

Althea looks to me now.

“You can’t fix me. I’m dying. I knew this would happen…”

“Althea, just show me the wound.”

She nods ever so slightly, and removes her hands from where they were cupped at her chest.

And reveals a perfect little bullet hole, her hands slick with blood.

Her breath catches in her throat, but she still manages to speak.

“Persephone… I… Have a message… For you…”

“Eh?” I answer intelligently.

“Come… Closer…”

I hesitantly lean my head over her face so that her ratcheting breaths tickle my ear.

And then she whispers a message, her words catching on coughs every once in a while.

“You… Your destiny… Isn’t with us…”

And then she gasps, pulls in a shuddering breath.

And she breathes no more.


	57. |56|

Tia’s bawling her eyes out.

Cato is staring off in space, looking a thousand miles away.

As for me?

I’m staring at Althea.

And I can’t stop staring.

As much as I want to stop, I can’t.

Her message echoes in my head, over and over again.

_You… Your destiny… Isn’t with us…_

No.

It can’t be true.

I…

I’m a penguin kid now.

I’m sticking with the penguin kids now.

Besides, how does she know, anyway?

But those were her last words.

She could have chosen anything.

But she chose to tell me that.

...Is it true?

“Persephone, what did she tell you?”

I gulp.

I can’t tell Tia that I’m supposed to leave her.

“She… She told me not to tell anyone.”

“Perse, it’s important that you listen to whatever she said.”

“Why?”

“Because, Perse, Althea knows—knew—things. She… She had dreams. She knew things that nobody else knew. She probably knew exactly how your life will play out. So please, Perse, listen to what she said.”

Tia sounds so desperate.

But I can’t leave her.

“I’ll try my best, Tia.”

I hate lying to her.

But I’d also hate to leave her.


	58. |57|

“We have to go.”

It’s the first thing Cato’s said since her death.

“We can’t just leave her here!” Tia protests. 

“Tia, we have to. We can’t just schlep a dead body along with us.”

“But-”

“Tia, you know we’re right.”

She sobs helplessly. “I know. I just wish we could do something for her, you know? It feels wrong just to leave her like this.”

I sigh. “I know what you mean, Tia, but we have to go. What if another officer finds us?”

She nods. “I know. I know you guys are right.”

I hold out a hand, help her stand up.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

I sigh. Cato rises to his feet.

“Whichever way feels right,” he says simply, then heads off in a seemingly random direction.

Finding myself with no other choice, I follow him.

Even though the way that we’re going feels the worst of all.


	59. |58|

The fire finally crackles to life, after the millionth try.

“Finally! Jesus Christ, Cato, it took you long enough,” I grumble, almost throwing myself at the fire to warm up.

“Hey, you try to light a damn fire with a couple of rocks!” he protests, setting said rocks aside and crowding closer to the fire.

Tia doesn’t come closer.

She just sits there, leaning against the tree, and stares unseeingly at the blazing wood.

Just like she’s been doing since she got here.

“Tia?” I try again, even though I know it’s pointless.

She doesn’t react. It’s like she doesn’t even hear me.

Maybe she doesn’t hear me.

Or maybe she hates me for killing Kevin, and is ignoring me.

“This is all my fault.”

I didn’t want to say it, believe me.

My mouth is a rebellious little bastard.

“No, it isn’t. She’s just in shock.”

I frown. “In shock?”

“It’s the first time she’s seen someone die. And she’s seen two people die, in the span of ten minutes. Just give her some time.”

“But wasn’t she there when Lilith killed George?”

“She was, but she didn’t see it happen. I didn’t let her see it, because I knew she would react in a way like this. I was trying to protect her.”

I sigh. “Cato, you must have known she would see somebody die soon enough, what with me being there.”

“Persephone.”

Something in his voice makes me look up.

“You don’t have to be that person any more.”

“Cato, it’s not something I can control! I just got lucky that one time!”

“Persephone, you grabbed Althea and I, didn’t you?”

I sit there, speechless.

He’s right.

I did grab them.

I wasn’t even thinking about it.

I just did it.

“How…?”

Cato shakes his head grimly.

“I don’t know, Persephone. But I know that you can figure it out.”

“How are you so sure? How do you know I won’t just end up killing you?”

He stares me right in the eyes. I can see the honesty written all over his face.

“Because I have faith in you, Persephone. If it was anybody else, it would be impossible. But you? You can do this, no problem. I know you can.”


	60. |59|

Tia falls asleep leaning against that goddamn tree.

Cato and I stay up.

I just can’t bring myself to fall asleep.

I mean, I killed a man.

Without thinking about it.

I just pulled the trigger.

I can’t help but feel uneasy.

What if there are more officers out there, still looking for us?

Or, even worse…

...What if they find us?

I can’t fall asleep, when that’s the only thing that I can think about.

As for Cato?

I don’t know, I can’t read minds, goddamn it.

“Persephone?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

I frown.

“What? What is it?”

“Just… Can I?”

“You just did.”

He chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

“Depends what it is.”

“Good enough. Just promise me that you’ll answer honestly.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Cato, just what are you getting at?”

He smiles nervously, looks away, fiddles with his hands.

Holy shit, I have never seen him this nervous.

“Cato? What is it? You’re freaking the shit out of me here…”

He laughs softly.

“You’ve got nothing to be freaked out about, Persephone.”

“Well, of course I do. You asked me a question, and then you tell me to swear honesty, and I’m scared shitless of what you’re gonna ask me.”

He chuckles. “How about I just ask you, then, and get it over with?”

“I’m guessing that’s not the question you really wanted to ask, so yeah, go ahead, I guess…”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he looks up, his gaze boring into mine.

“Persephone, what exactly were you thinking when you shot that man?”


	61. |60|

No.

Nononononononononoonononononono.

Not him too.

Please.

Not him.

Anybody else.

Just not him.

Or Tia.

Or Willow.

Or Kaleb.

I don’t want to see Willow torn like that.

But take anybody else.

Hell, please, do us all a favor and take Dash.

But not Cato.

Or the other people that I mentioned.

I don’t feel like naming them again.

But here it is.

Laid before my eyes.

But it hurts to see.

Because Cato.

Cato.

One of the only people willing to take a chance for me.

One of the only people willing to risk their lives for me.

The one person I can talk to right now.

The one person I want to talk to.

Has been ensnared by the claws of mistrust.

And I don’t know how to free him.


	62. |61|

“Cato, I wasn’t thinking. That’s the thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s like… Something took over me, and it wasn’t Lilith. I was entirely in control this time, and I… I killed him.”

“How do you know Lilith wasn’t showing you the death scene, like that time with George?”

“I was in control this time. I wasn’t that other…”

Wait, what?

I never told him that.

“How do you know that?”

He looks just as shocked as I feel.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? I didn’t tell anyone about… that!”

“I don’t know! Something just took over me, and I knew that. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Yeah. See what I mean?”

He frowns. “No.”

“It’s like some other… _thing_ latched on to your brain, but you still had control. Like… Like some other thing was telling you what to do, but you didn’t know it. You were just following orders or something.”

He considers this for a second.

“Yeah. That’s actually exactly what it is.”

“Wait, that made sense? I don’t even know what I said.”

He laughs.

“Yes, what you said made sense. A lot of sense, actually. Now we just have to figure out what this… _thing_ … is.”

I groan, but nod. “Sounds hard. And complicated. And ugh.”

He laughs again.

That sound.

That beautiful sound.

My heart is having a seizure.

Because of that sound.

Some part inside of me that I can’t describe is floating in a bubble of happiness.

Because of that sound.

And then.

“Persephone, can I ask you another question?”

“Oh, what is it this time? You wanna know about life philosophy or something?”

This time, he flushes bright red.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Okay then, I don’t see what’s wrong with another question.”

He takes a deep breath, and then looks up at me.

Scoots the slightest bit closer.

“How would you feel if I did this?”

And then he does the impossible.

He kisses me.


	63. |62|

Kiss.

It’s a foreign word to me.

I’ve lived in a fucking asylum for 9 years.

I haven’t exactly lived a normal life.

I’ve never kissed anyone.

In fact, I never considered the phenomenon of a kiss to even have a part in my life.

I never saw it coming.

Then again, I never saw Cato coming.

I also never saw any of the penguin kids coming.

But Cato.

He’s something else entirely.

I never thought someone like him would have a place in my life.

I also never thought that I would have a relationship like that with someone.

But here I am.

And he.

He.

He kissed me.

And now what do I do?

I don’t know.

What are you supposed to do after someone kisses you?

I have no fucking idea.

“Cato?”

“You promised me an answer.”

I did, didn’t I?

“To what question?”

He raises an eyebrow, but it just looks weird, because his face keeps getting redder and redder.

“I asked you how you would feel if I did… Well… You know…”

He laughs nervously, scratching his neck and casting his gaze downwards.

I can’t help but smile, and decide to ignore the fact that my own face is burning.

“Cato. Cato, look at me.”

When he does, I can feel my face burn harder, if that’s even possible.

“It felt good, Cato.”

I don’t know how else to say it.


	64. |63|

I guess I didn’t need to say it any other way.

Because he starts smiling like I just told him that money does grow on trees.

Or some other bullshit like that that people like to smile about.

But this.

This isn’t bullshit.

This is real.

“...Good?”

His voice is a squeak, like he can’t believe I really said that.

I swear, I probably look like a tomato right now.

A black-haired tomato, but a tomato still.

I nod silently, not trusting my voice.

His smile widens.

His face just might break in half if he smiles any harder.

“...So you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?”


	65. |64|

“ _What is this?_ ”

That’s how I wake up the next morning.

Tia.

My eyes crack open.

I feel like they’ve been closed for centuries.

“Hmm?” I grumble, trying unsuccessfully to wake myself up.

“ _What is goin' on here?_ ”

A groan.

Coming from next to me.

Where there is another person.

_There is another person._

I jerk awake.

“ _What-is-going-on-wait-what-eh?_ ” I answer gloriously, blinking the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.

“That's what I'm tryin' ta find out!” Tia yells, throwing up her arms in frustration.

“Stop yelling,” Cato mumbles from his spot next to me, his eyes just barely open.

“Not until you tell me what tha hell is goin' on!” Tia snaps, pacing back and forth in front of us like a nervous parent.

Cato mutters a couple of incoherent words under his breath before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“ _What are you talking abo–_ oh, hi, Persephone.”

He flushes. I flush.

Things are going great already.

“ _See?_ This is what I'm talking about!”

“Uh… Well…”

I am amazing at starting confessions, as you can see.

Cato and I exchange a glance.

I decide that he should decide.

“We… Uh…”

Tia raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, I see what’s goin' on here.”

I frown. “You do?”

She smirks, waggles her eyebrows. “Mmhmm. You two shagged, didn’t ya?”

Cato and I exchange a glance and burst out laughing.

“Tia, you really thought we-”

I can’t even finish. I burst out laughing again.

“Seriously, you thought-”

Cato can’t finish his sentence, either.

Tia smirks.

“Close enough.”

We both go bright red at that.

“You did technically sleep with each other.”

We did.

But we didn’t do anything else.

I swear.

I wouldn’t.

Not yet.

“I guess we did, didn’t we,” Cato answers nervously, staring down at his hands.

I can’t help but smile slightly.

“I guess we did.”


	66. |65|

“So... What do we do now?”

Tia throws her hands up in frustration. 

“Don’t look at me. I’ve been in shock until about an hour ago.”

Again, Cato is the voice of reason.

“We have to look for the others.”

_If they even made it out alive._

He doesn’t say it, but we all know that it’s there.

“Where do we start?”

“Tia! Cato! Persephone! Oh, thank God!”

It’s Willow.

“ _Willow!_ ”

All three of us stand up right away, looking around for any sign of her.

She barrels into the clearing through some random spot in the undergrowth, her eyes shining with tears of relief.

Kaleb follows her, also looking visibly relieved.

“You're alive,” we all exclaim at the same time.

We burst out laughing.

Willow tackles Tia with a hug.

Kaleb slaps Cato on the back, the way that guys do. 

Or maybe the way that guys don’t do, and this is special. I don’t know; I’m not used to people.

And me?

I just stand there.

Because they can’t touch me.

They might die.

Way to brighten your mood, Persephone.


	67. |66|

After another long day of walking, we build another campfire and settle down for the night.

Nobody goes to sleep, though.

We all sit around the fire and stare.

Watching that ghost of light flicker across the faces of our companions.

Even though we aren't as many as we had been yesterday, it’s better than being alone.

“So, how’d you guys escape?” Willow wants to know.

“I grabbed Cato and Althea. Tia followed us out.”

Kaleb frowns. “Where’s Althea, then?”

Nobody says anything.

Kaleb’s face falls. “Oh. I see.”

Willow grabs his hand.

I feel a flare of jealousy which I quickly extinguish.

So what, she can touch people?

Like Cato said, I just have to figure it out.

“One o’ them bastards shot her,” Tia finally chokes out, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

“And I avenged her,” I find myself whispering, closing my eyes against the memory.

But blocking my vision doesn’t stop the sound of the gunshot from ricocheting around in my skull.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Cato shoots me a pointed look.

“Okay, fine. You guys deserve to know.”

Willow frowns. “Know what?”

I sigh, close my eyes, and mentally brace myself for whatever’s coming.

“I shot one of the officers.”

Cato doesn’t stop giving me that stupid, adorable look.

Wait, what?

“Okay, fine. I shot one of the officers, and killed him.”

Stupid, stupid Cato…

Why must you be so…

_Ugh, no, stop it!_


	68. |67|

Tia stares down at her feet.

Cato is giving me the world’s most sympathetic look ever.

Willow and Kaleb are staring at me like I just grew a third arm out of my forehead and told them my name was Bill and I’m from Mars, and then after that, I made a weird bodily noise.

So, they’re looking at me funny.

Really funny.

Kaleb finally says something.

“Did you do it, or did Lilith do it?”

Oh, Kaleb. You just had to ask.

“I did it. I was in complete control of myself when I did it.” 

Kaleb stares at me some more.

So it’s Willow’s turn to say something.

“Was it self-defense? Please say it was self-defense.”

I sigh.

Was it self-defense?

Sort of.  
“He threatened me. So I reacted. I told him he could either walk away, or die, and… Well…”

“He chose die,” Cato finishes for me.

I put my head in my hands.

“I didn’t even think about it. I just pulled the trigger, and…”

I hear footsteps.

I look up, expecting Willow or Tia.

But it’s Kaleb.

“It’s okay, Persephone. I’m sure this is only the beginning, and it’s better that you just get over it. There’s probably a lot more death on its way, anyway.”

There are tears in my eyes.

God fucking damn it.

“Thanks, Kaleb.”

He just smiles.

“Hey, you’re one of us, now. It’s time we trust you.”


	69. |68|

Kaleb goes back to his spot on the ground next to Willow.

And I’ve made a decision.

I will tell them.

I will tell them how I got to that stupid mental hospital.

I will tell them what happened Before.

I will tell them.

I will unlock the one set of memories that I’ve kept locked away for the sake of my own sanity.

And I will live.

I will survive it.

And I will tell them.

“Guys, I think it’s time I tell you something.”


	70. |69|

_It was a somewhat normal day._

_Mom was yelling at Dad._

_Dad was ignoring Mom._

_And my brother was in his room, listening to music and probably doing something else. I don’t know. He doesn’t let me in his room._

_“Persephone, sweetie, tell your father to get off his lazy ass and go to work!”_

_This is normal. I do it every day._

_So I get up from the table and walk over to Dad._

_“Daddy, Mommy says she loves you.”_

_And then I turn right back around and go back to eating my breakfast._

_“_ Persephone! _”_

_I ignore Mom and finish my cereal instead._

_Dad doesn't say anything. Like usual._

_“Bye, Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to school.”_

_I head upstairs._

_I can hear them yelling._

_Dad is yelling, too, now._

_“It's not my fault she's like this!”_

_“I can't even touch her, for God's sake!”_

_I ignore it, like I usually do._

_I grab my stuff and walk across the hall to my brother’s room._

_I knock on the door shyly._

_I hear footsteps._

_He opens the door._

_“Percy?”_

_I smile. “Ari?”_

_He smiles back and opens the door wide, letting me in._

_“Just give me a quick second, and then we’ll go to the bus stop, okay?”_

_“Okay, Ari.”_

_Ari is short for Aristotle._

_He was older than me by almost 10 years._

_He rummages through a drawer, pulls out a sweater, grabs his bag, and we leave._

_Mom and Dad stop yelling when we walk past them._

_I’m pretty sure they’ll start again when we leave._

_Ari holds the door for me, and I scamper outside._

_And I run straight into the mailman._

_You could probably guess what happened next._

_I blacked out._

_Lilith came out._

_I will never forget what I saw when I woke up._

_I was in my brother’s room._

_He was lying on his bed, which was stained bright red with blood._

_His eyes were closed, almost as if he were asleep._

_But he wasn’t._

_I tried to wake him up._

_I was crying and screaming, poking and prodding._

_But he was dead._

_The house was eerily quiet._

_Way too quiet._

_I went downstairs to tell Mom and Dad that there was something wrong with Ari._

_But when I walked into the living room, I saw only more dead bodies._

_They were hugging each other, their eyes and mouths gaping open in horror._

_And with a certainty that six-year-olds shouldn’t have, I knew._

_I’d killed them._


	71. |70|

_I remember running back up to my brother’s room and crying over his dead body for I don’t even know how long._

_I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew, I was woken up by a cop shining a flashlight in my eyes._

_“What happened?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Are there any survivors?”_

_“The girl. She’s alive.”_

_Voices. They were everywhere._

_“Ari. Mommy. Daddy. They’re dead.”_

_The policeman stares at me as if I just performed a miracle._

_“Yes, sweetie.”_

_“Way to go, Josh. Tell the six-year-old girl straight up that her family’s dead.”_

_“Oh, shut up, James. What do you want me to do, lie to her?”_

_“I killed them.”_

_That shuts them up._

_“I killed them all.”_

_And then I’d started crying again._

_I don’t remember much of what happened._

_It was all a blur of movement, during half of which I was asleep._

_But I was brought to the mental institute._

_I didn’t even get to go to my family’s funeral._

_They kept me locked away._

_A secret._

_And here I am now, nine years later, and I only just escaped._


	72. |71|

Everyone stares at me.

They don’t say a thing as I wipe a stray tear off my cheek.

The stupid little rebel.

I didn’t want to cry tonight.

But remembering Ari, and how I’d killed him…

It was too much, I guess.

I forced myself not to think about him for almost a decade.

My dead brother.

I killed him.

My dead parents.

I killed them.

I am a murderer.

I made myself an orphan.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

I stare down at my clasped hands, waiting for somebody, anybody, to say something, to drag me away from my venomous thoughts.

And then, finally, Cato does.

Like he’s been doing for awhile now.

“When I get my hands on Lilith, I will kill her. Well, when there isn’t the risk of also killing you. But I swear, I will kill her.”

I can’t help but giggle.

And I have never giggled before.

Laughed, sure. Chuckled, yeah, a little.

But giggled?

Oh, hell no. I am not some stupid cheerleader.

“Tell you what, I’ll hold her down, while you strangle her.”

“Oi, don’t forget me! What do I do?”

Willow.

“You’ll kick her repeatedly.”

“You seriously thinkin’ of forgettin’ ‘bout me?”

“No, of course not, Tia. You can punch her in the face.”

“Kaleb? What’s he going to do?”

“Oh, I’m good. I’ll just watch you all have fun.”

Is this what they call friendship?


	73. |72|

_The screams of pain._

_Echoing._

_Drip, drip, drip._

_The sound the blood makes._

_It haunts me._

_I cackle._

_They cry._

_Blood._

_Everywhere._

_I can see their faces._

_One by one._

_They flicker past me._

_Like a slideshow on fast-forward._

_First Ari._

_Then Mom._

_Then Dad._

_Rosalie, the first girl I met at the mental hospital._

_Joel, the investigator._

_Sherry, the gentle lady._

_Lewis, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time._

_Catherin, who got in the way._

_Logan, that stupid kid…_

_Vanessa and Daniela, the pushy twins._

_Allen, who just wanted revenge…_

_Trista, the rebellious caretaker._

_Annalisa, the lady who always spoke with that weird accent._

_Charlotte, who wouldn’t back down._

_Lawrence, who always shared the latest news with me._

_Sharon, who was sick and tired of seeing her colleagues die._

_Sierra, who wanted nothing to do with me._

_Siena, the lady I always confused with Sierra._

_Derrick, the arrogant idiot who didn’t know when to stop._

_They go by, one by one._

_I can hear each and every one of their screams of pain, can identify them based on their voice._

_Charlotte’s disgust-filled shriek._

_Derrick’s choked-out scream of pain._

_Annalisa’s rough, raspy scream._

_Rosalie’s shocked screech._

_I can feel their blood on my hands._

_Drip, drip, drip..._


	74. |73|

“ _Persephone!_ ”

I jolt awake with a gasp.

“Persephone, calm down! It’s just me!”

I stiffen, only now realizing that I’d been kicking and flailing as if someone were trying to kidnap me.

“What happened?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

I stare at him, sitting right there next to me.

_Drip, drip, drip…_

My eyes widen, tears already pooling there.

I remember them all.

Every single name, every single face.

It was about one every month.

First Ari, Mom, Dad, and Rosalie, all in the same month.

Then Joel, and after that, Sherry.

And so on.

And then.

When I was 13.

I got out.

Well, Lilith got out.

I don’t know what happened.

I do remember two faces from that night.

Two screams.

One face was Cato’s face.

But with brown eyes instead of green.

And then.

An older Cato, with the same green eyes, but an off-looking face.

“Persephone?”

And that’s when I start sobbing.

Because for once, someone actually cares what I’m feeling.

He reaches for me.

“No,” I choke out, scrabbling weakly away from him. “I don’t want to kill you, too, Cato.”

He sighs. 

“Look, Persephone. I’m going to help you, okay?”

I’m not sure what he intends to help me with—I need a lot of help—but I nod anyway.

“Think about it; what was different between the time, say, Tia hugged you, and the time I was holding your hands in the cell?”

What was different?

Well, when Tia hugged me, I was happy.

And then I was scared.

When Cato held my hands, I wasn’t scared. I was focusing on me, on who I am. I wasn’t focusing on fear.

When Tia hugged me, I was focusing on fear.

That’s it.

“Fear.”

He frowns. “What?”

“That’s it, Cato! Fear! If I don’t think about fear, if I’m not scared, then Lilith can’t take over!”

He smiles.

“See? I knew you’d figure it out!”

And then.

I don’t know what takes over me.

I lean forward.

And this time.

I kiss him.

And the world around us could explode, for all I care.

He gasps, his back going rigid, but he relaxes after a few seconds, and I mentally sigh in relief.

My heart.

Is trying to beat its way out of my chest.

My hands reach up and grip his shoulders.

I feel his arms circle around my waist.

We could be attacked by military agents, and I wouldn’t give a damn.

The forest could set itself on fire, and I wouldn’t give a damn.

The whole entire sky could implode on us, and I still wouldn’t give a damn.

Because the only thing that matters right now is Cato.

Cato.

But it can’t last forever.

Because air.

Stupid air.

So we break apart, gasping, chests heaving up and down.

I don’t move away from him. He doesn’t move away from me.

The truth is, I don’t want to let him go.

Because what if he isn’t real?

What if my grip on his shoulders is the only thing keeping him here?

What if this was all a crazy dream, and he doesn’t exist?

If so, I don’t want it to end.

I don’t want to let him go, if it means the end.

“I… I should, uh… Go back to sleep…”

He makes a move to get up. 

“No!” I blurt without thinking.

He raises an eyebrow, his face beet red.

“I… What if I have another nightmare?”

He smiles softly.

“You won’t.”

“Please, Cato… Will you…”

Ugh, this is really wounding my pride, here.

But it’s worth it.

Because I don’t want him to leave.

To go back to whatever lonely corner he was sleeping in.

“...Will you stay with me? Please?”

His smile softens even more, if that’s even possible.

“Always, Persephone.”


	75. |74|

“Oh, not again! You have got to be fuckin' kiddin' me!”

I’m about to get up, but Cato’s voice interrupts me.

“Don’t move. Maybe she’ll leave,” he whispers in my ear.

Remembering just how close he is has me flushing bright red.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, I know you two is awake, you goddamn lovey-dovey idiots.”

I groan. Cato echoes me.

“Damn it, Tia…,” I grumble, burying my face in Cato’s chest.

I feel Cato’s arms tighten around me.

“Let’s just stay here for a while,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting across my hair.

“Good idea,” I mumble groggily, snuggling closer to him.

What can I say? It’s cold in the mornings.

But, if I’m being honest, that’s not the only reason I want to sleep next to him.

I hear Tia grumble something and stamp away, and I find myself relaxing again.

Cato’s hand strokes my hair.

“We are going to have to get up, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know…,” I sigh.

“ _What is this?_ ”

I groan again.

“Can’t these people just leave us in peace for five minutes?”

Cato chuckles.

I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It calms me, for some reason.

“ _Cato-what-is-the-meaning-of-this?_ ”

“Kaleb, calm down.”

“ _But-he's-they're…_ ”

I can just see Willow’s raised-eyebrow, _oh-really?_ face.

“Oh yeah? And what were we doing?”

Kaleb doesn’t say anything. I hear Willow chuckle.

“Seriously, what do you have to do for a little _privacy_ here?” Cato hisses in an exaggeratedly loud voice.

“Oh, fine! I get the goddamn message.”

I hear Tia stomp away.

Willow sighs.

“Kal and I are going to get breakfast.”

“You two be good,” Kaleb warns, obvious mistrust coloring his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll be fucking angels. Now, can we go back to sleep?” I call out wearily, my voice muffled.

“Fine,” Kaleb grumbles.

I hear them walk away.

Finally.

I can go back to sleep.

I can relax in Cato’s arms, and there won’t be anyone there to gawk at us.

“Persephone?”

I force down the sarcastic words I want to throw back and look up at him instead.

The mischievous smirk on his face wakes me right up.

“I’m not sure I want to sleep anymore.”


	76. |75|

I know.

This is going to sound incredibly cheesy.

And typical of a sixteen-year-old girl who has never experienced anything like this.

But Cato.

Just.

Cato.

If I lose him now, I might just die.

I mean, I won’t go crazy enough to say that I’m in love.

I mean, things like that don’t happen in two days.

But I do ‘like’ him.

Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.

I don’t know why I was so mad at him when Tia said… Whatever it was she said.

I don’t even remember.

But I do know that I ignored Cato for no good reason.

And I won’t do that again.

I swear it.

Although, I can’t exactly speak for future me…

But I hope future me doesn’t forget it.

Cato, Tia, Willow… Kaleb, Alistair…

They’ve all done so much for me.

They’ve all believed in me.

They’ve all pulled me back on my feet when I fell.

They’ve all gone back for me.

Even when I resisted with all of my strength.

They wrenched me out of my cage of self-pity.

And they showed me the real world.

In the real world, there is no self-pity.

If you dwell on that shit, you might as well kill yourself.

Because life is for the living.

They showed me that.

Those wonderful kids.

They showed me that if you don’t get up and do something, nothing’s going to change.

They showed me that my life is mine.

And I have the power to change it.

But I don’t have the power to stop the inevitable.


	77. |76|

It all started that day.

We were walking.

It was peaceful.

Even though we don’t know where we’re going, we’re still happy, somehow.

Because we’re together.

I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s the truth.

I hear something.

A faint sound.

“Do you guys hear that?”

I make a gesture for everyone to stop walking so that I can hear better.

And sure enough, there it is again.

The faint - yet distinct - sound of a sob.

I take a step towards it, listen again.

And then I start running.

Because if there’s anything else I’ve learned from these penguin kids, it’s that nobody gets left behind.

Especially not anyone in need of help.

My ears bring me to a tree.

“What? That doesn’t make any-”

But then I hear it again.

Distinctly louder.

And coming from the goddamn tree.

So I do the only other thing I can think of.

I walk to the other side of the tree.

And damn it, it’s a big tree.

But sure enough, on the other side, the tree opens up.

It’s hollow.

And inside that hollow space is a boy.

A crying boy.

He hears my footsteps.

And looks up.

His milky blue eyes stare up at me in astonishment.

“Persephone?”


	78. |77|

“Guys, come!” I yell out to the others, who immediately start running in my direction.

The boy smiles widely, and I find myself smiling, too.

His happiness is just so damn contagious.

Tears still trickle down his face, though.

And I’m not sure what to do about that.

Cato gets here first.

When he sees the boy, his eyes widen.

“Alistair!”

“Al? It's _Al_?” I hear Tia shriek.

“Al,” I hear Willow sigh in relief.

Cato reaches into the hollow and helps Al out.

And he gasps.

I don’t.

I’m used to seeing shit like this.

Al is covered in mud and dried blood, and is clearly favoring his left leg.

The sight of all of the blood has my shoulder aching all over again.

Just to check it, I reach up.

And my hand comes away bright red.

My eyes widen at the sight of the blood.

And my head.

Starts to.

Swim.

“Persephone?”

Cato sounds so worried. I want to reassure him.

I’m okay, I want to tell him.

But my mouth won’t work.

My vision.

Is fading.

Into black.

No. 

I can’t…

But I did.

I lost consciousness.


	79. |78|

I wake up with a gasp.

And try to speak.

But there’s something on my face.

My eyes snap open.

Everything swims with blurriness for a second, before shooting into crystal-clear.

A man leans over me, holding this weird thing to my face.

He wears a uniform.

The only thing I see when I look at him is Kevin’s face.

Kevin’s limp body tumbling to the ground.

Kevin’s dead, empty eyes.

I faintly hear someone scream, and I find myself reaching up and scrabbling at the face thing, clawing at the man’s hand, doing anything I can to try to get that thing off my face.

I finally succeed, ripping the thing off and throwing it to the floor.

It’s an oxygen mask.

“Get away from me!” are the first words that leave my mouth.

“Perse, let him help you!” are the first words I hear in return.

My head snaps in the direction of that voice.

Tia is there, with Cato.

They’re both huddled together, Cato looking ashamed and guilty, Tia crying softly.

“It’s either go with them or die, Perse, and I can’t let you die! Not after all of this,” Tia pleads desperately, trying unsuccessfully to blink back her tears.

As much as I want to kick that guy in the face and hightail it out of here, I can’t say no to her.

She’s my first friend.

So I nod, ignoring the tears pooling in my own eyes, and settle back down on the whatever-it-is-I’m-lying-on.

And I close my eyes and let myself slip back into unconsciousness.


	80. |79|

“Is she gonna be a'right?”

“She should be.”

“When’s she going to wake up?”

“Soon.”

“Where will you take her?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Where you gonna take us, then? You plannin’ on separatin’ us from Perse?”

“I’m not sure what the boss is going to do with you.”

“Just what exactly are you idiots, eh?”

“We are B.R.A.A.V.E.”

“Brave? I didn’t ask for yer goddamn personality, you bastard, I asked for what you idiots are.”

“It’s an acronym, Tia. Jeez.”

“Oh, shut up, Cato.”

Cato? Tia?

What’s going on?

“So, when did you say she was gonna wake up?”

“Soon.”

“How much exactly is ‘soon’?”

Cato groans.

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long will we be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, Jesus Christ, ya don’t know much, do ya?”

Cato chuckles.

The other guy doesn’t answer.

“What’s your name, Officer Idiot?”

“Aye, you callin’ mah boy an idiot?”

Footsteps.

Somebody came in.

“Cosima, what are you doing?”

“What, I ain’t ‘lowed ta protect ya?”

“What if he don’t need no protectin’?”

Is this going to turn into a sass-off?

I don’t get to find out.

Because the darkness claims me again.


	81. |80|

“I thought you said she would wake up soon, you bastard!”

“Aye, Horatia, ya gotta calm down, girl.”

“Don't ya dare 'aye' me, ya stupid bitch! That's my best friend lyin' on that goddamn table!”

“...Tia…”

Holy shit, my mouth works this time.

“ _Perse!_ ”

Footsteps, rushing towards me.

Something collapses on top of me with a sob.

“Tia!”

My voice, more urgent now.

“Tia, you have to get off, you have to let go of me, what if Lilith…”

“Oh, Perse, I’m so glad you’re okay…”

She didn’t hear me.

“ _Tia, get off me, quickly, Lilith's gonna-!_ ”

My voice trails off, as another kind of blackness claims me.

Lilith has come out to play, and as much as I fight against it, there’s nothing I can do about it.

I am helpless against Lilith.


	82. |81|

Like that other time, Lilith lets me see it all.

“Ah, Tia. Here we are again.”

You fucking _bitch_! How dare you?

_Can it, mortal._

No, you "can it", immortal!

“Your friend Persephone is being quite the pest right now…”

Oh, fuck you too, Lilith!

“Perse? Perse, you there?”

Yes, Tia, I'm here, but run, Tia, run away it's Lilith she's gonna kill you run-

“She’s in here, but she’s completely helpless. I am in control.”

“Oh, fuck you!"

And she looks at me.

No, at Lilith.

But I could swear, she was staring right at me.

Even though Lilith is in my body, she’s seeing me.

Not Lilith.

And when she speaks this time, she speaks to me, not Lilith.

“Perse, I know you’re in there. You can fight this.”

No, Tia, I can't, it's not something I can control-

“I know what you would say, Perse. It is something you can control.”

Wait, what?

How did you know that?

“I can hear you, Perse.”

What? How?

“I don’t know how it happened, either, but I know you can fight this. You know how.”

I do.

Fear.

I don’t have to be afraid.

I can control it.

I can take back my body.

If I ignore fear.

Which I’m pretty much already doing.

Because Tia is so much more important than fear.

“No! You little bitch! How dare you?” Lilith roars.

But I can feel control returning to me.

And within a few seconds, Lilith is caged again.

And I throw myself at Tia, tears of joy pooling in our eyes.


	83. |82|

“Tia, what’s-?”

I hear something fall to the ground.

I reluctantly let go of Tia and turn in the direction of the sound.

“Persephone,” Cato breathes, staring at me like I’m the most amazing thing on the planet.

“Cato,” I somehow manage to choke out, fresh tears trickling down my cheeks all over again.

He runs at me, and the next thing I know, he’s kissing me.

“Aw, jeez, you two, get a room!”

“Aye, the girl’s right, she is!”

“Ey, I ain’t agreein’ wit ya. I refuse.”

“Aye, sister, I is agreein’ wit ya! You gotta problem with that?”

I laugh. “You two are a lot more alike than you think, you know.”

I let go of Cato and turn to face them.

They stare at each other with almost identical faces of disgust.

“See what I mean?”

“Err… Sorry, Perse, but this bitch kidnapped you. She ain’t nothin’ like me.”

“I gotta agree with the girl. Aye, she ain’t nothin’ like me.”

“There it is again! You two even kind of talk the same!”

“Now, Perse, you just bullshittin’ us. We ain’t nothin' alike!”

“Aye!”

“Jeez, I don’t ever say ‘aye’!”

“An' I never said ‘jeez’ in my life!”

I hope things are never normal with us. I like this weirdness.


	84. |83|

“Mimi, what’s going on…?”

The guy who walks into the room trails off mid-sentence, staring at me wide-eyed like I just performed some miracle.

“Aye, Alex, she’s up. Obviously.”

“Does that mean we bring her to the big boss?”

“Nah, Boss calls ‘er down when she’s ready.”

“Why the hell are you talking about me as if I'm not right here?” I snap, my temper flaring.

Mimi(?) sighs. “Aye, ‘s always frustratin’ when people talk like that. We gotta explain ta her, Alex.”

Alex sighs.

Should I sigh, too, since it looks like everyone’s doing it?

“I know, Mimi. I am not looking forward to this, ‘s all.”

Mimi (is that a nickname?) smirks playfully and sashays over to this Alex (is that also a nickname?).

“We didn't got no ‘lone time for while, hmm?” she purrs.

She places her hand on his chest, leaving everyone else in the room to feel extremely uncomfortable.

They share this really long, loaded look, and then separate.

It looks like someone tore them apart.

“Aye, you three, sit down. This is gonna take awhile.”


	85. |84|

“So, whaddaya wanna know first?”

Tia opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it.

“Where am I? Where are Willow and Kaleb and Alistair?”

“That’s a pretty simple question. Alex?”

“You are at the headquarters of an institute called B.R.A.A.V.E.. You guys somehow managed to escape from the last branch we sent you, so we brought you here, where there’s more security. Your friends are all here, too, but are being kept elsewhere. You are in a section of the infirmary that was built to contain criminals while they heal from severe injuries.”

Well, that brightened my day.

I’m considered a criminal.

“What is ‘Brave’?”

“It’s an acronym. It stands for Business of Reaping the Astonishing Abilities of Virtuoso through Extraction of fear. In other words, we take prodigious young men and women that have been corrupted by weaknesses such as fear, and we rid them of this corruption by extracting that weakness from them bit by bit, therefore taking them from astonishing to extraordinary. Those who have graduated from B.R.A.A.V.E. have moved on to become soldiers, for the most part, but several have dived into the arts instead.”

“In other words, we’re a bunch of bullshit that they throw at you to trick you into thinking that what we’re doing is a good thing.”

“Cosima!”

Oh. So it was a nickname.

“My job is ta tell the truth to the kids we bring here, not to feed them a bunch of bullshit that I don’t even believe! I’m sick and tired of followin’ the Boss’s orders like a goddamn lost puppy.”

Alex’s voice is pleading, now.

“Cosima, why this? Why now? You could have chosen to say something about this at any time, but why now?”

She smiles ruefully.

“'Cause, Alex, don’t you see it? These kids are different.”

She looks at us.

“These kids are our one hope of blowin’ this goddamn popsicle stand and gettin’ our own lives!”

Alex smiles, watches us carefully.

“Yeah, Mimi, I see it too.”

“We have to help them, Alex.”

“I know, Mimi.”

“We gonna tell them the truth. No bullshit.”

Alex nods, almost sadly.

“No bullshit.”


	86. |85|

“The Boss’s name is Claudia Strickland. She wants everyone to call her ‘Boss’, though, and hates it when people know her real name.”

“She’s arrogant, strict, an’ just downright cold. You gotta be sneaky if you wanna get past her.”

“But we don’t have to get past her. If you cut off the head, then…”

“Whoa, there! I never said I was going to _kill_ someone!”

“See, that’s the good part. You don’t have to kill her.”

“Well, it’s certainly what you were suggesting,” I grumble.

“There are enough rebels within this organization, and I bet every single one of them would pay to fire a gun in Strickland’s hard little head.”

The excitement in his voice is unbelievable.

Does he even know what he’s talking about?

Death.

That’s what he’s talking about.

And he’s joking about it, lightly, as if it’s no big deal.

Yeah, no fucking big deal my ass.

“You know what? Fine. If you want someone to kill her, I’ll do it.”

Cato gapes at me like a fish. Tia and Cosima simply stare at me, as if waiting for me to say “Guys, I’m just kidding”.

Which I do not say, by the way.

“Why, Perse? Why you gonna do it?”

“’Cause I’ve already done it, Tia. I am the only one here who has already killed someone, and I am not going to sacrifice someone else’s innocence when I’ve already given up my own.”

Tia opens her mouth again to protest, but Cato cuts her off, placing a hand on her shoulder.

The room goes oddly quiet, as if holding its breath.

“Tia, just let her do it.”

“Why, Cato?”

His gaze flickers to me briefly, before returning to Tia.

“You can see it in her eyes, Tia. Can’t you see it? She won’t back out of this fight until she wins it.”

Tia turns her head slowly to look at me, before she reluctantly nods.

“Yeah, Cattie, I seen it.”

“Trust me, Tia. I don’t like this either, but if it’s what Persephone wants, then… Well… There’s no way of getting her out of this one, even if we tried.”

“I know, Cattie, but it just feels like we’re throwin’ her under the bus, eh?”

Cato nods sadly, turns away from her and lets his hand drop, slinking away into a corner.

“So, that’s settled! Now, we need a plan…”

I can’t help but feel a sinking guilt in my gut.

The way Tia and Cato are looking at me, it feels like I just swore to shoot them, and not Strickland.

And yet, I can’t find it inside of myself to take it back.

These penguin kids gave me hope.

And I am not going to take hope away from them, or let anyone else take hope away from them.

Which means that I’m killing Strickland.

There’s no going back now.


	87. |86|

After arguing for hours about what we should and should not do, we finally came up with a suitable plan.

Cosima will distract the guards, while Cato and Tia slip out. Then, Alex and I will come out; we’ll pretend that Alex is escorting me to the bathroom or something.

Cosima, who seems to have a photographic memory, if what they told us is even correct, drew Tia and Cato a map with a path colored in red that will lead them to where the other penguin kids, along with all of the other hopeless kids being kept here, are being imprisoned.

Cosima is our ‘mission control’. Once we’ve left, she’ll enter the room where the security cameras are kept and, with the help of the cutesy little Bluetooth earpieces she stole, she’ll ensure that the coast is clear, and all of that stuff. She’ll also be the one to erase the footage taken of our mission, after Strickland is dead.

Alex and I are to somehow sneak up to the Boss’s office, where she should be contemplating world domination (isn’t that what all villains do?). We are to kill her in any way possible, no matter what.

If we fail, then Tia and Cato will be flooded with security, recaptured, and probably put into a sealed room, or something. They’ll notice Cosima’s disappearance, and when they find her screwing around with the security cameras, she’ll probably get a similar fate.

So, no pressure, right?

Alex and Cosima are supposed to come get us when it’s time.

Half of me hopes that it’s never time, while the other half wants it to be time so I can finally kill this idiot who thinks that all weakness should be eradicated. 

I wonder which half will win.


	88. |87|

“Ugh, I feel like I’m going to throw up…,” I groan, hugging my stomach.

Seriously. It feels like my stomach has been flipped upside down, turned inside out, tied into knots and shoved back into place.

“Well, the garbage can’s over there, if ya feel it comin’.”

“Thanks, Tia,” I grumble under my breath, shuffling over to the tiny little garbage can next to the gurney.

Yeah, that’s right. A gurney.

I was sleeping on a gurney.

“What was wrong with me, anyway? Why’d I black out?” I ask, trying not to groan mid-sentence as one of the knots in my stomach tightens.

“You reopened the bullet wound in your shoulder, but nobody noticed because you were covered in blood. We didn’t realize that some of it could have been yours. You collapsed from blood loss. The doctor said you’d be weak for awhile, but…”

“Ya seem perfectly fine, if ya ask me.”

“Yeah, well lots of things seem one way, but end up being an entirely different way. If that makes any sense,” I mutter grouchily.

“I feel ya,” she answers simply.

I hear footsteps coming up behind me as I crouch over the garbage can and prepare myself to throw up.

“Persephone, are you sure you want to do this?”

I sigh, gagging slightly but pretending that I didn’t notice. “I don’t have a choice, Cato.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Well then, I choose to not change the choice that I made before. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. I’m just…”

I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” I call over my shoulder.

“I’m worried about you, Persephone. There’s a chance that you won’t even come back, and as much as I don’t even want to consider the fact that you could die today, I have to. But I don’t want to.”

Well, shit.

How To Make A Girl Feel Like Jell-O In Two Seconds by Cato Wilkinson. That book will sell.

I get up and turn around to face him, trying hard not to groan as another stomach-knot tightens.

“Cato, I won’t let any of you throw your innocence out of the window like that. You guys have helped me so much; the least I can do is pay you back in this small way.”

“ _Small _way?”__

__Even I don’t think it’s a small way._ _

__“Okay, I know. It’s not small at all; I am going to kill someone. But it’s worth it, Cato. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but you guys have proven your trust time and time again. You guys came back for me. I would turn my back against the world for you guys.”_ _

__Cato seems shocked at my words._ _

__I am shocked at my words._ _

__I didn’t even know I felt like that, but I guess stressing situations reveal the truth._ _

__And then Cato is hugging me._ _

__And everything else disappears._ _

__Because I know now that I can touch people without hurting them. And it’s one of the best feelings._ _


	89. |88|

_My brother’s face is dead._

_Empty._

_It hangs limply, his eyes and mouth gaping open in horror._

_His limbs are splayed, as if he were just lounging on his bed after a long day at school._

_That is not the case._

_I rush over to him, the memory of that night having been refreshed all over again._

_“Ari!” I scream, my voice choking off with a sob._

_And just like that night, I check his pulse._

_Just to make sure._

_Even though I know that he’s dead._

_His skin is too cold. Unnaturally cold, unnaturally white._

_But I can’t help myself but check anyway._

_“You know he’s dead.”_

_A feral snarl rips itself from my throat, and I whirl around, hands splayed open in claws._

_Lilith leans against the doorjamb of his room, that mischievous little smirk plastered on her face. This time, though, a pair of inky black wings fan out behind her like a shadow._

_“Ah, you think you have power here, don’t you?” she purrs, slinking towards me like a predator stalking prey._

_“Maybe I do, and you just don’t know it,” I growl, taking a step forward so that I’m blocking my brother from her._

_She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Oh, darling, this is the mind we’re talking about. With a simple snap of my fingers, you could be dead.” Her smirk turns into a sneer, and she holds her fingers up as if threatening me._

_And, I’ll admit it._

_I throw myself into the fire in the hopes that it won’t burn me._

_I cross my arms. “Yeah, but you won’t kill me. I can see it in your eyes; you can’t kill me.”_

_Her beautiful face contorts into a monstrous snarl, and I almost take back what I said._

_Almost._

_“Oh, you just watch, you worthless little mortal. When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you hadn’t said that.”_

_And with that, she disappears in a puff of smoke, her evil cackle echoing in the room like a constant reminder that she’s there, and she’s watching me._

_A constant reminder that death is right around the corner. ___


	90. |89|

“Persephone! Persephone, wake up!”

“Perse, for the love of fucking Jesus and God and Buddha and any of the others whose names I can't think of, _wake up_!”

“Please… Persephone, wake up, please…”

The desperation.

I never thought I’d hear someone talk like that about me.

I fully rise from unconsciousness with a jerk, my eyes flying open.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong? What happened?” I blurt, trying unsuccessfully to force down a yawn.

“Perse, you was screamin’ an' yellin’ an' cryin’. You ‘kay?” Tia murmurs softly, as if afraid of scaring me away.

“Yeah… Yeah… Just a nightmare…”

But is it really just a nightmare?

Lilith’s cackle resonates inside of my skull once again.

“Perse?”

Someone grabs me by the shoulders.

“Persephone.”

His voice seems calm, but there’s an undertone of desperation and fear that I’ve somehow come to recognize.

“Persephone, look at me.”

I do.

I push the memory dancing before my eyelids away and look past it, at Cato.

My breaths are fast and shallow, my eyes wide.

I didn’t even realize it.

“Persephone, calm down.”

I nod, shivering involuntarily for an unknown reason, and close my eyes, focusing on slowing my breathing.

“I’ll just… uh… Go over there…,” I hear Tia mumble.

I open my mouth to protest, but the words won’t come.

Call me selfish, but I want to be alone with Cato for some odd reason.

But somehow, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be alone with Cato.

For one thing, there’s Lilith.

And for another, I have this feeling. This really weird feeling that I didn’t have before.

The next thing I know, I’m clutching at Cato, hugging him to me as if I want to hide him away from the world.

I tremble as a helpless sob rips itself from my throat, trying and failing to muffle the sound by burying my face in his shoulder.

“...Persephone?”

I answer with a sob.

Stupid mouth doesn’t seem to be able to form syllables right now.

“What’s wrong?”

I sniffle.

At least the tears are dying down, the panic subsiding. For now.

I bring one hand up to swipe at my eyes, sniffle again.

“I just… I…”

He pats my back awkwardly, which makes me giggle for some reason. He doesn’t say anything, though, just lets me assemble my thoughts.

“I feel like I’m going to lose you, soon.”

He doesn’t ask any more questions, just holds me.

And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.


	91. |90|

I don’t know when they show up. I don’t have a watch, and there’s no clock in the room. And I sure as hell am not crazy enough to count how long we’ve been in here.

I count days, not minutes.

Tia, however, has a watch. And didn’t tell us.

They come knocking around midnight.

“Aye, you gonna let us in?”

Tia reluctantly rises from her spot in the corner, grumbling something under her breath.

I bet five bucks it’s a curse.

She opens the door.

Cato and I still don’t move.

“A'right, we ready to set the– whoa. I’m sorry, we interruptin’ somethin’?” Cosima drawls, raising an eyebrow and placing her hands on her hips.

“Nah, them two was just gettin’ up anyway. Right, guys?” Tia answers, glaring pointedly at us.

I can’t help but feel guilty, so I get up, feeling like I just stabbed someone in the heart when I hear Cato’s little noise of protest.

Like a little mewl, or a whine.

He follows my lead, though, and rises to his feet, looking extremely annoyed.

“You guys really picked the best time, didn’t you?”

“Whoa there, buddy. You can have all the alone time with your girlfriend there after tonight,” Alex chuckles.

Cato flushes and looks down.

“What time is it, anyway?” I ask.

As you can see, I am the queen when it comes to subtly changing the subject.

Tia glances at the watch that she never told us about.

“Almost midnight.”

See. That’s when I found out what time it is.

“Aye. Now, let’s get movin’ before the guards get suspicious.”

And with that she turns around and walks out, calling out “Aye, Jeffrey!” as she goes.

Alex closes the door quietly behind her.

“Alright, guys. Mimi’s distracting Jeffrey and Thomas right now. Horatia and Cato, you two will slip out soon. Then, Persephone and I will do our part.”

“For the last fuckin’ time, Alex, call me Tia.”

He smiles grimly, ignoring Tia’s comment.

“It’s show time.”


	92. |91|

Alex cracks the door open and peeks outside, gesturing for Tia to come to him.

She does, shooting me a loaded look that I can only half-decipher.

“Just ‘n case, ‘twas nice knowin’ ya, Perse,” she whispers to me as she passes.

She doesn’t look back.

Alex and her whisper back and forth for awhile, and then she just disappears.

He just stays still, staring outside for what feels like forever before turning his head and gesturing for Cato to go.

Cato turns to me and plants a kiss on my forehead.

“We will make it out of this. Don’t worry. You won’t lose me.”

He smiles at me.

How can he be so sure that something won’t go awry?

How can he be so confident that the guards won’t catch him or Tia, or even me?

How?

“Don’t die,” I murmur instead, fighting back against a wave of tears.

His smile widens, and then he turns away and saunters confidently over to an annoyed Alex.

It’s the same thing for him; whispered conversation, disappearance, staring outside.

I stare at the spot where Cato had been, silently and stupidly hoping that he might just materialize out of thin air. I know, I know, I’m worrying for nothing, but I still can’t shake off that feeling.

That feeling that I’m going to lose him, and soon.

“Persephone!” Alex whisper-shouts, his face contorted into a scowl as he gestures for me to come to him.

He straightens, opens the door.

“Jeffrey, Thomas.”

I scamper after him, trying my best to act like a timid, innocent little girl.

It’s hard to do, after you’ve killed someone.

“What do you think you’re doing, Martinez?”

“Bringing the jailbird to the ladies’ room. Is that okay with you, Commander Uptight?”

I hold back a giggle.

The man in question glowers at Alex, but backs away.

“Fine. A little potty break shouldn’t hurt.”

The show is now officially on the road, people.

Even if I wanted to, it's too late to go back.


	93. |92|

The hallways are dark and quiet. With every step, I feel like I’m setting off a loud, blaring alarm: “ _Come get them, they're over here!_ ”

I know, I know.

I’m probably just being paranoid.

But when you feel like you’re being watched in an empty hallway with a guy leading you to almost certain death, feel free to express your opinion.

Until then, do not judge.

“This way,” Alex whisper-shouts.

His voice echoes down the halls, and I can’t help but think that even if he’d screamed, it would have had the same effect.

“Stop ordering me around like some stupid little servant,” I snap under my breath.

But I follow him anyway. Hey, what else am I supposed to do?

“Fine then. You find your own way to her office.”

“Nah, then I’ll be her servant, and that sounds a hell of a lot worse than this.”

He chuckles at that.

We sneak down the hall, turn left into another hall with nothing but a flickering ceiling lamp to light the way.

Not that I care. I can see perfectly.

“Ugh, I can’t see shit,” I hear Alex grumble.

“Wait, what?”

It takes me a second to realize that I said it out loud.

I want to kick myself for it.

Alex turns to me, an eyebrow raised. “What, you can see in this pitch black darkness?”

I frown. “Pitch black? It’s perfectly normal. What, you can’t see?”

Alex lets out a startled laugh. “Persephone, it’s called being normal. That demon side of you must give you some superpowers or something.”

“If you start calling me Batman, I will kill you.”

He laughs again, smiles at me. “Batman doesn’t have superpowers.”


	94. |93|

“This is it.”

We got super lucky. None of the security guards noticed us.

It’s almost like we’re invisible.

“Well, what now?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I didn’t think we’d get this far, to be honest.”

I groan. “Just open the goddamn door, and we’ll improvise!”

“Good plan.”

I stifle another groan and prepare myself as he reaches for the door handle.

But the door flies open before he can even touch it.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you two. Come on in, make yourselves at home.”

“No! Perse, it's a trap! Run!”

“Ah, ah, ah… She’s getting awful chatty… Seize them!”

I turn around, but two bands of steel wrap themselves around my arms, and I can’t move.

“No! You won't get away with this!”

If only I could just see who’s done this…

“Ah, but my dear little Horatia, I already have.”


	95. |94|

“Bring them in.”

“Alex, where are you?” I scream.

“Jesus Christ, I’m right here! Stop screaming!”

And then someone pushes me from behind, and I fall forwards with an embarrassing little “Oomph”.

“Get up,” that calm voice snaps sharply.

You can tell just by the way she speaks that she believes herself to be the alpha.

But I get up anyway. I don’t want to stay on the floor.

“Tia! Cato!” I gasp breathlessly, my eyes widening.

There they are.

Those two, who are supposed to be freeing the other penguin kids.

Instead, their wrists are bound, and they kneel before a large mahogany desk with a strict-looking woman standing behind it.

Her face contorts into what has to be a smile, even though it looks like a grimace of disgust.

“Ah, Persephone. How nice of you to join us.”

I should have just kept my mouth shut.

Instead, I started cursing her in extremely creative ways, probably making up a couple of new swear words, for all I know.

“Boys, shut her up.”

Another band of iron wraps itself around my face, obstructing my mouth and therefore keeping me from cursing her.

I still try, though.

Try to bite the hand that keeps me from yelling, and eventually even lick it to see if he’ll draw it away.

As you’ve probably already guessed, it didn’t work.

“Ah, Alex. Not you, too? If only I knew that I had so many disloyal employees…”

She shakes her head disapprovingly.

“What did you do to her?” Alex snarls, pulling against his restraints (which happen to be two men, holding him still).

She gets that look on her face.

That Lilith look, minus the timeless beauty.

That look that means _You’re a hopeless little idiot who thought life was wonderful, weren’t you? Well, let me burst that little bubble of yours._

“I think it’s better if you saw it for yourself.”

She turns to a door on the other side of the room.

“Cosima, honey, why don’t you come greet our guests...”


	96. |95|

A Cosima that isn’t Cosima walks robotically over to Lilith-Lady, whose evil grin widens every second.

I hope her face splits in half.

“Cosima?” Alex breathes, staring at the not-Cosima with wide eyes.

Not-Cosima turns her head and stares blankly at Alex, as if not seeing him.

Not-Lilith lets out a cackle. “Oh, this is just perfect!”

“No, I don’t agree,” I snap back. “When you’re _dead_ , this’ll be perfect.”

Not-Lilith pouts. I mean, she actually does that stupid little fake-pout. I am not kidding.

“Aw, I don’t think Persephone is enjoying the party…”

She turns to Not-Cosima, who still stares blankly at Alex.

“Now, my little Cosima-drone, why don’t you go show Persephone how to have a little fun?”

“No!” Tia shrieks, struggling violently against her bonds.

The struggle is futile, though; she probably just ended up tightening her bonds.

“Destroy,” Not-Cosima drones robotically.

“Cosima!” Alex screams.

Not-Cosima stops and turns her head to look at Alex, a strange metallic whir seeming to come from her as she moves.

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him.

And I’m kind of ashamed to say that I lose it.

“What of the _fucking hell_ did you _fucking_ do to her, you bitch!” I screech, launching myself at her like an angry bull.

And the weird part?

I somehow manage to rip free of the ‘bonds’.

And I’m pretty sure that Alex is a hell of a lot stronger than me.

But his hands (and by him, I mean the guy who was holding me back).

They just jump away from me, as if my skin burns him.

But I only realize it later.

I move across the room in a blur of speed, and the next thing I know, I’ve got Not-Lilith pinned to the wall by her neck.

And, call me crazy, but I have fucking claws.

Not that I was paying much attention to that at the time.

I was thinking something more along the lines of “wait, how the hell did I get here so fucking fast?”

“Tell me,” I hiss in a voice that doesn’t sound at all like mine, leaning close to her and baring my teeth.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; what am I, a cat or something?

The woman stares at me, wide-eyed, the slightest smile on her face.

“Yes… This is great… Let it flow through you…”

“Tell me!” I roar again, tightening my hand on her throat.

She lets out a choked gasp, her eyes bugging out briefly before I relax my hold again so she can talk.

“Why, I simply created a drone of her to replace the original. Humans can be such rebellious creatures; drones, however, are 100% loyal.”

“Where's the real one?” I thunder on, feeling a blazing fury coursing through my veins.

The woman smirks. “Down in the dungeons, along with all of your friends.”

My fury is temporarily swiped away by confusion as I step away from her.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

She brushes off her ice-blue jacket as if I’ve corrupted it with my touch.

“Ah, you mean you don’t know? I’ve cloned them, too, you see. And you four are next.”


	97. |96|

“No!” Cato, Tia and I snarl in chorus, glaring savagely at the woman.

“Ah, pitiful children. Yes! It’s already been done!”

I can’t take it anymore.

I launch myself at her again, with the intent to kill this time.

“Cosima!”

Only to feel a stab of agony in my leg.

Literally.

I fall to the ground, reaching down to the spot in my thigh where the pain flares strongest.

And slice my hand on a blade.

With a gruesome yank and a cry of pain, the knife is pulled from my thigh with a metallic whir.

“Persephone!” I faintly hear Cato scream.

The woman’s voice is surprisingly clear.

“Now, Persephone, you have three choices.”

I don’t answer her, just keep panting off little gasps of pain, staring down at the gaping stab wound in my leg.

“Persephone, you know it is impolite not to look someone in the eyes when they are speaking to you.”

“Go to hell,” I croak, lifting my head to glower at her with all of the hatred I can muster.

She ignores me.

“Ah, that’s more like it. Now for your options.”

I don’t say anything. It’s not like she’ll listen to me, anyway.

“You can insist on being a petulant, rebellious little girl, and I’ll have my darling Cosima end your worthless little life right now, or you can choose to remain neutral, and bleed to death on the floor, right where you sit right now, while your friends become drones.”

“Or? You said there were three options.”

She smiles at that, spreading her arms as if to show me something.

“Or you can join us.”

I spit at her. “Hell no.”

She grimaces in disgust. “I see. Well, then…”

She turns around, facing the windowed wall behind her.

I can feel everyone in the room holding their breath.

And then, finally.

“Finish her.”


	98. |97|

Everything happens within a few seconds, a blur of action that I almost miss.

I sit there, bracing myself for the killing blow, when…

“No!”

Cato sounds inhumanly powerful.

But I don’t look up, knowing that it won’t make a difference.

And then.

A crash, followed by a metallic groan.

And I look up.

Cato stands behind me, his back to me. At his feet lays a lump of metal wearing a green t-shirt and a pair of jeans, with a mane of dark hair. Blank robot eyes stare up at Cato, who still doesn’t turn to face me.

“Ah, Cato Wilkinson.”

I look to the woman, who has to be Strickland.

“Why would you save her, after what she’s done to you?”

I freeze, opening my mouth to ask her what she means.

But it all comes flooding back to me.

Exactly what happened that night.

And I feel the tears welling up in my eyes and trickling down my cheeks.

“No,” I whisper hoarsely.

Strickland’s smile is cruel. “Oh, yes.”

I can hear the frown in Cato’s voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t know?” Strickland asks mockingly.

A pause. I stare straight ahead.

Her laugh resonates in my skull long after it has faded away.

“Oh, darling, Persephone here is the reason you even ended up in that branch of B.R.A.A.V.E. in the first place!” she cackles.

“No,” I choke out.

“No, no way! You’re lying!”

“No,” I cry out softly.

“The look on her face is all the proof you need, Mr. Wilkinson! Persephone Hartright killed your father and brother.”


	99. |98|

The silence in the room could be cut with a knife, it’s so heavy. My sobs get caught in my throat, as if respecting an unknown vow of utter silence, though the tears continue to fall inexorably.

“Is it true?”

Cato’s voice is small, on the verge of a sob.

I don’t need to ask to know that he’s talking to me.

The sob finally comes.

“Cato, I couldn’t control it… Lilith broke into your house, she’s the one who did it… It wasn’t me…”

His voice cuts me off, leaving a stab wound in my heart that hurts a lot more than the one in my thigh.

“Persephone, were you involved in the cold-blooded murder of my only family?” he snaps coldly.

Silence.

“...Yes,” I wheeze, before breaking down into tears.

Because I did do it. I remember it all.

That lady back at the mental institute said so; Lilith is a part of me. I might as well accept the fact that she is me.

I killed Edward and Archer Wilkinson, Cato’s father and brother, respectively.

I planted that bloody note in the book that Cato found that night, after he came home from his friend’s house.

The note that lead him to the scene of the murder.

The note that lead him to the corpses of his family.

And I watched it all, and laughed at his screams and cries that echoed in the night, reveled in my victory when I’d discovered that he’d been moved to a mental hospital for people with uncontrollable fears for his major phobia of books.

I also forgot everything about that night, except for names and faces, just like usual.

Archer Wilkinson.

Cato looks like Archer Wilkinson, his brother.

That’s why he looked familiar when I first met him.

His brother.

Those green eyes, staring up at me.

“Take me, take my dad, I don’t care. Just don’t you dare hurt my little brother,” he’d said.

Those green eyes, exactly the same as Cato’s.

Though Archer’s hair had been dark brown, whereas Cato’s was dirty blonde, they had the same eyes, and similar face shapes.

Edward Wilkinson.

The man who smiled at me as he was dying.

“I hope you’re satisfied with my death, Lilith, but you will be vanquished.”

That smile, exactly like Cato’s.

And I forgot it all.

Until now.

I was right, before.

That feeling should have worried me more.

Because now, looking at Cato, I know that he harbors a new hatred for me.

Now, looking at him, I know that I’ve lost him.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever get him back.


	100. |99|

“It doesn’t change anything. We still have to stick together. I don’t care if she killed the president; she can help us get out of here.”

Even as he says it, I know that he does care.

“Ah, quite the contrary, Mr. Wilkinson. I can see it in your mind.”

“” Tia hollers incredulously.

Strickland turns to her. “What, you haven’t figured it out yet?”

There’s something wrong about her, some kind of horrible feeling that’s getting stronger by the second.

I’ve only ever felt it once.

With Lilith.

“You’re a demon.”

She smiles at me, displaying her fangs for all to see.

“Yes, mortal. I am a Lilim, a daughter of Lilith, and I am here to ensure that my mother completes her task.”

I hear a thump, and a weird clanking sound.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Tia growls.

I turn around, and there she is, holding a gun.

A fucking gun.

It’s a big gun, too.

And she points it at Strickland.

“Die, bitch!”

And she fires the gun.

A red dot blossoms on Strickland’s forehead, and another on her chest, and then another in her lower abdomen, and a last in her neck.

Everyone just stares as Strickland lets out a choked gasp and collapses to the ground, her eyes wide.

“Holy shit,” I hear Alex mutter.

“I fuckin’ killed that bitch!” Tia shouts triumphantly.

“Where the hell did you get the gun?” I ask breathlessly, turning to her in the hopes that I’m not still crying.

She raises an eyebrow at me and points behind her, where an unconscious man lays.

“Perse, if you know me at all, then you know that I ain’t the kinda person ta let other people push me ‘round.”

I can’t help but laugh at that.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

We’re alive.

We’re all alive.

Alex walks over to me, helps me up.

I wince when my right foot hits the ground.

“Well, shit. This is not going to be easy.”

Tia frowns. “Wait, I thought that guy there was holding you…”

The guy is standing guard at the door, looking out for other people.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s okay, guys. Diego’s one of us.”

He nods at the guy, who turns his head and nods back before returning to his guarding work.

“But I-”

My words are cut off by a blaring alarm that echoes in the room, and then sounds again, and again, and again…

“Shit!” Alex curses, wrapping an arm around my waist and ushering me towards the door, a desperate look on his face.

“What? What’s going on?” Tia hollers over the sound of the alarm.

“I don’t know! Someone set off the alarm!”

Everything after that is a blur.

We run through hallways, and at some point Alex ends up picking me up and carrying me.

My vision is fuzzy, and I have to fight to stay conscious.

Hallway after hallway, I don’t see anything happening. Time slinks by in slow motion, nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors that whirl and twist.

The only clear thing is the agonizing pain in my thigh, and the excruciating pain in my chest where my heart used to be.

I do remember eventually feeling the relief of inhaling fresh air.

Then a jarring impact as I hit the ground, though it still wasn’t enough to clear my hazy vision.

And a huge booming noise washed over me along with a bright, flaring red light, and everything faded to black.


	101. |Epilogue|

I wake up in a bright room, unsure of where I am; my vision is still blurry.

The pain in my thigh is reduced to a dull throb, and I hear voices around me.

“...Amazing that she’s even still alive.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit yer jibber-jabberin’ an’ speak English.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“How did you guys get out, anyway?”

“We ran. Don’t take a rocket scientist.”

“I know, but…”

“Yeah, I know. We heard it all before. We made it out in the nick o’ time. One second later, and we would'a been dead.”

I find myself stirring, my eyelids fluttering in an attempt to clear my vision.

“Perse? Perse!”

“Ti...a?”

Her face pops into my line of vision.

Her startling eyes shine brightly, a smile stretched across her face.

“Hey there, Perse. You ‘wake.”

The slightest smile spreads across my face.

“Where… Am… I?”

Her grin widens.

“Welcome to the real Brave, Persephone. They gonna help us, trust me. It ain’t a lie, this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, Humans of the Archive. ~~This was originally posted on Wattpad, but due to my inactivity on there I decided what the heck and put it on here as well so eyyyy~~
> 
> This is something I came up with a year or so ago. Or maybe it was two years? I don't really remember.
> 
> Anyway, the chapters are really short. And by really short I mean Really Short™
> 
> If you're reading this, I hope you enjoy this story and its craziness and the fact that it reeeeeeaaaaaally needs to be edited.
> 
> probably-not-illusory out


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